


In Shadow

by ForzaOUAT



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Work, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 128,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForzaOUAT/pseuds/ForzaOUAT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He promised he would watch over her. He promised he would always be there for her. He had given up on one child; it would not happen again. He did not expect her to grow up. He did not expect to feel anything but pity. He had been so wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strength

Chapter 1

Strength

"Mama….Mama, please don't go…!"

The little girl sobbed, running after the figure who had now passed over the hill and beyond her sight. She wanted to keep running, but her Papa would be upset. She was never entirely certain why he got so angry, but she knew it would come ...and she knew she did not want to be the person he centered on when it did. Her father's anger was best dealt with by older and stronger people than she.

Wiping the tears that were streaming down her face away with her arm, she turned around and trudged home, kicking rocks along the way, doing anything to keep from thinking about her mother. She would have to be brave now; strong ...she could not be seen weeping. She was all her Papa had left.

And yet, the child wanted ...something. Anything really. To hold onto; to hug, something that would make her stop sobbing inside, something that would lessen the pain. Reaching her Papa's stable, she went into the tack room and dug into the trunk that stood in the corner. She pulled out a ragged, half-rotted, doll with brown hair and blue eyes, dressed in a tattered gold dress. Her Mama had made it for her a few years ago and it had become her best friend. She'd had to hide it because her father was not fond of his daughter playing with dolls. With no son to inherit, he treated her like a boy – scolding her when she cried, educating her in the art of war –insisting that she was going to inherit his estate and, as such, she must prove worthy of it.

Hugging the doll tightly to her chest, she went into the lone empty stall and sat down on the straw. Giggling despite her sorrow, she started to lose herself in her imagination, the doll becoming suddenly animated in motion and voice.

"Shall we take a nap, dolly?" She had never given her friend a name; she didn't know why and it didn't really matter; she just knew she loved her. Her lids were drooping now and she was yawning. "Just for a few minutes, before Papa finds me."

Lying down on the straw, she closed her eyes. A few minutes later, she was sleeping, a slight smile on her face.

Watching all of this transpire, Rumplestiltskin shook his head in disgust. In his travels, he'd come across many scenes of pathos, of humor, of outright tragedy, even of happiness, but for some reason nothing had touched him like what he had just borne witness to.

This little girl had watched as her mother walked away from her, ignoring her pitiful pleas to stay, and yet instead of collapsing in a heap, she had sought comfort from her plaything and actually laughed. There was something about this child, who could not be more than 7 years- old, that reminded him of Baelfire. His son, too, had lost his mother at this age. Granted, Bae had believed his mother dead, but Rumplestiltskin many times wondered if it was better or worse? He had been a strong boy; unwilling to let his loss consume him, and in being that strength, he had given Rumplestiltskin hope for a future. A future he had given away, a child he had forsaken. It was his deepest regret.

His eyes drifted back to the child who lay sleeping. Long, chestnut colored hair was tousled with dirt from the road and straw from the stable where she lay. He had seen determination in her startling blue eyes. Yes, she was strong, that was it. Bae had been stronger than he and this girl, young as she was, was stronger than her mother and, he suspected, her father as well. It was nearly impossible to penetrate his heart. He had closed it off so many centuries ago he didn't remember what it felt like to care, but this child, this little girl who clearly had no one to turn to had managed to find her way inside. It was a strange and slightly painful sensation, caring, but he'd no idea how to stop it.

Gently walking over to her, almost floating on the straw so that she didn't wake, Rumplestiltskin gazed down upon her. She truly was a lovely child, it was clear that one day she would grow up into a beautiful woman. He was surprised at how moved by her plight he was; his intuition told him that she would find no comfort with her father and this saddened him. No child should want for the love of a parent. He above all else knew that.

As she started to stir, kicking around the straw and clutching her doll even closer to her, Rumplestiltskin came to a decision. He would be her protector and her guardian. If he could do anything right in this world, it was to ensure that this little girl would never feel abandoned, that she would know that someone cared about her even if the people who were supposed to feel that way did not. Bending down to her, he placed his hand on her forehead. "Rest well, brave little one", he whispered. "You will be fine," he paused for barely a minute and then added, "I promise."


	2. Dreams

The Dark Castle was ...well, dark. Rumplestiltskin paced in front of the fireplace in the great hall, his mind returning, once again, to the child he had seen earlier in the day. What on earth had he been thinking? How could he, the Dark One, possibly make her a promise like that? And yet ...he knew without having to pause or ponder that it would not be broken. He had already broken a deal with a child, and he had no intention of doing it yet again.

He flashed out of the castle and found himself standing in her bedroom. This was most certainly one of the worst idea's he'd ever had. He felt like a stalker and stepped backward, allowing himself to be shrouded in shadow. He pulled his cloak around him and pulled up the hood. It would not do to scare the child if she woke. He was content, for the moment, to simply watch her sleep. It comforted him to know she was safe, and as she slumbered, he knew she would not feel alone.

It must have been several hours later when he heard the whimper. The child turned over in her bed, pulling her bed clothes up over her head. The whimper turned into a moan filled with anguish and pain. Rumplestiltskin looked toward the door. Surely someone could hear her crying; surely someone would come to comfort her, but he heard no footsteps, no voices, no knobs turning. The moan grew to a keening wail and he could stand it no longer. He strode forward and leaned down, placing a hand gently above her forehead, not quite touching but close enough that in her sleep she would know someone was there; someone had heard her weeping.

She started awake, jerked away and began to cry. It made his heart cringe. Is that what she expected? That just a small touch meant to comfort and soothe was going to end with fear and sadness? He shook his head. He should kill them all. He should seek out each and every person within hearing distance of her door and take their lives in the most painful way he could manage. How could anyone hear the sobbing of a lonely child who had only today lost her mother and simply ignore it?

"Why do you weep, child?" His voice was soft, gentle, a tone that asked for nothing but offered a friend should she want one. She looked up at him, still hidden by the hood, and her brilliant sapphire eyes filled with momentary confusion. He saw her take a breath; he believed she was going to scream, and if nothing else brought the wretched people of this castle to her side, that certainly would. She did not scream, however, but rather blinked several times and continued to gaze at him.

Finally, she spoke. "Are you going to kill me?"

Rumplestiltskin's heart broke. "Certainly not," he said, perhaps slightly harsher than he had planned.

"Why are you here, then?"

She was irritatingly perceptive for a child of seven years. He shook his head. "You dream, child. I am not here."

For several pregnant moments he watched emotions war on her face. If he was real, and she did not call out, she would, perhaps, be taken away or dead. If he was not real, then she would look a fool to her father and that was something she could never tolerate. Her father would laugh, taunt, accuse her of demanding attention. No. She couldn't take that chance. "What is your name, then," she asked quietly.

Rumplestiltskin sat down gently on the edge of the small bed. He allowed his magic to prevent the bed from reacting to his weight. If he could convince her that he was simply a figment of her imagination, he would be able to keep his promise for as long as she was in need of him.

He smiled, although he knew she couldn't see it, and answered. "I do not have a name. What name would you give me?"

She studied him, such as he was, for several minutes before she answered. "Bob."

Laughter rumbled in his chest. It felt ...strange. Not bad, necessarily, but he had not laughed, not truly laughed, in centuries. "Of all the names, in all the realms, you have chosen Bob?"

She looked mildly irritated and nodded. "What's wrong with Bob? I like it."

He almost sighed. "Very well. Bob it shall be. Now, will you tell me why you were weeping?"

Once again, she considered before she answered. She was wise for her years, weighing her words, allowing for some and discarding others. "My mother ..." her voice broke slightly with the threat of more tears, but she composed herself and continued. "She went away today."

"I see," he said. "And will she be coming home soon?" Of course, he knew the answer to that question, but it was important for her healing to understand that her mother had no intention of returning to this castle, to her husband or to her child.

"No," she said with sorrow. "No, she won't be coming back at all."

He nodded. "I am grieved, little one, that you feel such pain."

She shook herself, as a bird settling its feathers, and glanced at him shyly. "My name is Belle." She held out her hand as her Papa had always taught her, but he did not take it.

He simply nodded. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Rumplestiltskin hated the fact that he could not return her handshake, but it would not do for her to realize that he was flesh and blood. Above all, she must never know that. He did not want her to fear him. So many people were afraid of him already; it would be nice to know someone, however young they might be, did not find his presence frightening.

She dropped her hand and folded them in her lap. "You can't touch me, can you? Because you're not real."

She sounded so forlorn that he almost reached out to comfort her. It took every ounce of his strength to prevent himself from folding her in his arms and assuring her that he was, in fact, very real and that she no longer need fear anything or anyone. "You have realized my limitations, but does that mean I am no longer welcome? I shan't come here again if you do not wish it."

Belle's plea nearly ripped his heart in two. "Oh, no, Bob. I'm sorry. Please don't go away."

"I shall not leave unless that is what you wish, little one. On that, you have my word." Even as he said the words for the first time, he knew that they were true. He could never simply walk away. "Sleep, little one. Sleep with the knowledge that I am with you ..." he pointed to her head, " ...here. And I will never let bad dreams invade your slumber."

She smiled then. "Will you come back?"

Rumplestiltskin stood, leaned over her and passed his hand over her face from hair to chin. "Sleep, my little one."

She fought against his sleeping spell, fought the magic, her eyes fluttering as she tried to remain awake. "You didn't answer me." Her voice was heavy.

His hand moved over her face again, and he whispered as he saw her eyes close. "Yes, Belle. I will always come back."


	3. Responsibility

Belle woke with the sun streaming into the window; her mind immediately went to her visitor from the night before. Had it been a dream? It had seemed so real, however, Belle was no stranger to vivid dreams and his existence, while comforting, seemed unlikely no matter how much she wished it could be so. To have a friend ...not a maid, or a nanny, or a distraught father, but a real friend she could talk to about anything would be more than she could have hoped for.

Therein was her dilemma. Should she even dare to hope that he was actually real ...at least as real as it was possible for him to be, or was she simply asking too much? She thought probably the latter. Confidants, friends, people who meant no harm and only wanted for your welfare did not appear out of the shadows in your bedroom at night. They were simply the desperate dreams of a child who, in losing her mother, now had no one to talk to.

She would say nothing, of course. Her father would accuse her of demanding attention instead of focusing on more important matters. She knew that with her mother's departure she would be looked upon as the mistress of this castle. It was too much ...too much responsibility to dump on a child of only seven, but she would be up to the challenge. Besides, she was to turn eight in a less than a fortnight and while her young age was not ideal to command the respect and loyalty of adults, she knew she could. She had to.

As she got up and prepared for the day ahead, her mind wandered back to the shadowy stranger. Bob. She almost giggled. It was, quite literally, the first name that had come in to her head. He had seemed almost affronted by the idea of being referred to as Bob, and yet, he'd allowed it anyway. Because it was her dream, and in her dreams everything should go her way. She knew she shouldn't dwell on something that wasn't real, but she found herself unable to focus on anything else.

Her maids came in to help her dress and braid her hair and still her mind wandered. He had an unusually high pitched voice when at first he had spoken, but as he talked to her, she could hear the gentle inflection of some sort of accent. She wondered where he hailed from, her visitor. Very clearly she remembered him saying he would always come back. Perhaps it was childlike in thought, but she hoped that he would. Even were he nothing but a dream, the chance to speak without reservation was something she valued.

Her father was in the great room at the head of their enormous oak table. Belle had always thought he had commissioned it because he dreamed of having a large family one day. That her mother had been unable to conceive after Belle was born had been a huge blow to the family. She took her place in the seat to his right. "Are you well today, Papa?"

He attempted to smile and Belle was grateful. She knew the toll her mother's departure was taking on him and she wished with every fiber of her being that she could console him, but it was neither her place, nor within her abilities. He patted her hand. "As much as can be expected, my girl."

Belle squared her shoulders and took a breath. "Don't worry, Papa. I will help you. I promise."

Her father's shoulders almost sagged with relief. He had clearly not expected her to be able or willing to deal with the day to day running of the castle. He had been raising her to inherit not only the castle itself, but the lands around it. She knew how much responsibility came with that title. Now, she was not only the mistress of the castle, but she would one day be the Lady of these lands and it would be up to her to hold the reins and make sure her people were as happy as she could make them.

Rumplestiltskin watched from the shadows. Part of him filled with a pride he'd felt only once before, when his son had stood up to a Knight of the Frontlands on his behalf. The other half of him hated Belle's father with enough passion to want to strike him down. How could that man possibly expect a child of such a tender age to deal with servants, messengers, cooks, groundskeepers ...all the people who made this castle run? They would take advantage of her. They would mock her. They would do things behind her back because they knew she couldn't possibly see everything.

He shook his head in a strange mixture of sadness, regret, anger and respect. She was giving up any semblance of childhood to take on the responsibilities of a lady. He felt sorrow, watching helplessly as the child slipped away and was replaced with a mask she would surely wear from this day forward; the mask of the woman she was not ...yet. If he could take these tasks from her, he would do it in a heartbeat. He would lift her out of this overwhelming existence and let her grow up as she should, but it was not his place.

Granted, he generally didn't care one way or another what his 'place' was, but he had so much enjoyed being in her company. Hearing her soft voice filled with curiosity, mourning, sleep, but not fear. He knew no one else who spoke to him in that way. With the complete honesty that came only in not knowing he was, perhaps, the most dangerous being in the realm ...in any realm. Although she was but a child, she was truly the only friend he had.

As much as he wished to pluck her out of this miserable reality, he also knew she would never allow it. She would fight him tooth and nail and in the end he would simply lose any possibility of trust she might eventually offer. Not to say that he couldn't help her, but it would be tricky. She believed him a dream, and only a dream. Something to stave away her nightmares. How did he help her, teach her, show her anything without her realizing that he was much to aware to be a figment of her imagination?

He would simply wait, watch, and hope that the way would become more clear. Of one thing he was absolutely certain. Whatever happened, today, tomorrow, in the years that were to come, he would not let her be alone. He would give her the comfort he'd never had. He would give her the comfort he'd been unable to give to Baelfire. He had been given this gift; to be a father once again, and he was not going to let his continuing struggle for power interfere.


	4. Deals

Rumplestiltskin stood in front of a sniveling, cringing woman who was wringing her well-manicured hands together with obvious angst. He sighed, not out loud, but inside ...he was sighing heavily. What part of 'deal' or 'sign here' or 'read this' or 'all magic has a price' was not completely clear? Over and over, again and again, for hundreds of years he had faced people like this one. He considered her for a moment. Well, not exactly like this one. This one was special. This one deserved his undivided attention.

She was clearly under the impression that he was moved by her tears because she inched closer to him and cautiously touched his arm. He looked down at her offending hand with irritation and she pulled it back as if bitten by a snake. He almost scoffed. Why was it that everyone assumed he wanted and/or needed sex? And yes, he did mean everyone. He wondered briefly what she would do if he actually took her up on the offer. The thought was so amusing that he nearly laughed. It was bad enough that he knew she was married, but frankly, she was also a depressing excuse for a human being.

Several days ago she had called to him requesting riches. Why was it that people were always willing to sell their souls for money? He had been the poorest of poor before Zoso had taken an interest in him, yet he had never considered material wealth to be the epitome of life. His son had been his greatest treasure. Even with very little the boy had grown and thrived. Bae had always shown an amazing ability to adapt, whatever the situation, and the boy had loved him ...regardless of his reputation, despite his cowardice, he had never had cause to question his son's love. Even after he'd been lost; after Rumplestiltskin had allowed him to leave, there was still no question that the child had loved him.

He turned his attention back to the pathetic specimen before him. Decisions, decisions. Her crying was getting on his nerves. "Woman!"

She started and looked up at him. She was a slight thing; small and wiry. He was certainly not the tallest being alive but he felt like a giant standing near her. She had on an expensive, fur-lined, green cloak, with what had apparently been a very nice gown at some point underneath. While the dress appeared to be ripped to shreds, the cloak seemed to have held up nicely. You get what you pay for. Her eyes were a brilliant blue made that much brighter by the raven colored hair he could see peeking out from under the hood.

She sniffed. "Please sir. I was attacked by bandits. They took everything." She motioned to the street behind him. "Even the carriage and horses. Your payment was inside."

Rumplestiltskin waved away her protest. "You appear to be under the mistaken impression that I care, which I do not. You, madam, are causing me to miss the birthday of someone I care about. Now either make good on your agreement, or I will take payment another way."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Someone you care about?" Her voice bled with sarcasm and he actually stared at her with something close to awe. It seemed unwise to insult someone who, literally, held your life in their hands. Not the brightest person in the realm, then. He chose to ignore the barb and move on. It was Belle's birthday and she would be going to sleep very soon.

Over the last week he had visited her every night. He had learned so many things about her. Things that to someone else might seem trivial, but to him, meant the world. He knew that her favorite color was green, like the grass in spring. He knew that although she loved the beauty of the sunrise the day after a storm, she did not like thunder. She was fine with lightening, as she found it beautiful, but thunder made her feel as if the gods were angry.

She liked ribbons of silk wound through her hair, and she preferred her hair braided. It simply got in her way when it was loose. She worried fairly consistently after her father's declining health and his lack of desire to procure a new wife. He knew that she had been frightened at the prospect of dealing with her father's servants about the castle, and he knew that they had, for the most part, been kind and helpful to their young mistress. Which was a good thing since he was more than prepared to permanently remove anyone who should challenge her. He knew she missed her mother, and that she did not understand how anyone could look their child in the face and turn away. He also had a difficult time with that concept. He had said as much. Above all, Belle loved to read. She had devoured every book in their ridiculously small library several times.

He was still lost in thought when the woman sniffed again and wiped away tears. "What would you have me do, sir?"

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "A book. My price for you to live in luxury all of your days was a book, and you couldn't even get that."

"It wasn't my fault," she sobbed, bursting into yet another bout of tears.

He was finished with this particular transaction. He was unmoved by her plight and scowled at her, not caring one way or another what might become of her. "You do not have my book, is that correct?" She started to blubber again and he held up a hand. "I'll take that as a no. Let us not have any confusion. You do not have the payment which I requested, is that correct or no?"

The woman shook in fear as she nodded. "Yes. That is correct. I don't have it. I'm sorry."

"I care not for your apologies," he said, waving away the babbling he could sense was coming. "You are hereby stripped of all wealth and title given to you either by myself or by another person. You will remain in a state of poverty, and just to be clear that means you are not permitted to marry someone with a large fortune, for the rest of your days."

She looked stunned and the crying began anew. He marveled at the fact that she did not weep for anything of consequence. Her materialistic mind could not comprehend living in poverty, or having to scrape each day to put food on the table. "I understand."

It was the first cohesive sentence she had uttered all evening. "Make no mistake. I will be watching you. I have my ways. Should you choose to break our agreement again, I will happily remove you from this life and you may try your hand in the Netherworld."

The woman simply nodded, and still weeping, she walked away. Rumplestiltskin sighed. He was glad it was over. He watched as she disappeared in to the darkness. It seemed impossible to him that this woman had given birth to a beautiful, kindhearted, loving, intelligent child. They might look somewhat alike, but that was where their similarities ended. He would have to keep his eye on this one. A woman who was so desperate for a life of leisure that she would walk away from her own child would certainly attempt to find a loophole.

Well, he had not the time, nor inclination to give much thought to it now. He had bandits to hunt down and a book to find. His best friend turned eight today.


	5. Bandits

Rumplestiltskin flashed in just as the bandits came to a stop. He watched without humor as they built a fire and gathered around it's warmth. Apparently they wrongly assumed they were far enough away from the village to make camp. His mouth twitched in a half-smile. It was not a pleasant sight, but then, he was not pleasant in general so it suited him. In all honesty he didn't waste a single moment caring about what that horrible woman had lost. She had given up something so much more precious than this carriage; the loss of her riches should pale by comparison. That she hadn't noticed simply spoke to her basic uselessness.

He giggled and five heads turned to look in his direction. Four of them turned several shades of white; they were clearly smarter than the fifth man who stood and walked toward him. One of his fellows grabbed his arm but he shook the man off and came to a stop in front of Rumplestiltskin. He loomed over him and Rumplestiltskin almost laughed. He was attempting to use his height advantage to create a sense of nervousness.

Rumplestiltskin glanced around him at the other men. Well, they definitely looked nervous. Although, he was guessing that was not what the buffoon in front of him had been hoping for. "You are not welcome here."

When his face broke into a broad smile, three of the men still seated around the fire got up and ran into the darkness. One remained. "Am I not? And why would that be?" He walked around the mountain blocking his path. "Is it because you are a thief and this carriage is stolen?" He stopped and turned. "Or perhaps because there is something inside this carriage that I want." Rumplestiltskin reached the carriage and opened the door. The book, as the woman had stated, sat on the seat opposite the horses. He reached inside and scooped it up, glancing at the immobile bandit still seated by the fire. "You ..." he paused, considering. The man tensed, awaiting the death he was sure was about to come. "I have no need of you. Go away." The bandit looked at his friend for several moments before he shrugged, stood and bolted. "Hmm," Rumplestiltskin observed. "No honor among thieves."

He turned with the book in his hands to face the largest of the group. "You, on the other hand, are simply annoying."

"Who ..." he started to speak, but his air suddenly ran out.

"Do try not to talk, please." Rumplestiltskin glanced back at him and giggled again. "Oh, well, you can't, can you? This is your lucky night. I have somewhere I have to be and I am therefore going to let you live. Congratulations."

The man only nodded as Rumplestiltskin turned into a cloud of purple smoke and disappeared.

#

Belle's room was cold. He looked at the child who was shivering in sleep and felt almost murderous. He flicked a wrist at her fireplace and a blaze erupted from the embers. It would take a little while, but it would warm the room. He was impatient; his instinct was to warm the air, but Belle had seemed suspicious the last time he'd done that. She had asked far too many questions. It never failed to surprise him how observant she was.

He waited as the fire did it's work and she stopped shivering. As always, he was content to wait and watch. If she didn't wake up, he would leave a memory in her dreams so she knew he had been there and come again the next day. He set the book on her reading table near the fire and stepped back into the shadows.

The warmth had caused him to drowse and Belle's voice started him back to consciousness. "Were you going to stay there or come and talk with me?"

He smiled, pulled up his hood and walked toward her. "I did not wish to disturb you, little one." He sat down next to her and pulled his cloak around him. She made a face at his use of 'little one.' He knew she disliked it, but to his eyes, if to no one else's, that is what she was. He did not, however, wish to upset her and so he refrained from making a comment.

"Why do you hide from me?" She motioned at his cloak and hood.

He placed his hand over his heart. "You injure me. I am not hiding, this is simply how I am."

She cocked her head to one side, considering, and nodded. He could tell by her facial expression that she didn't believe him for a moment.

"Happy Birthday, Belle."

She let the subject fall and smiled at him. "It's only a year and yet I feel like I've aged years and years."

"That is due to your duties and not your birthday, I fear." He sighed. There was no way to prevent her from growing up, but he wished he could at least make her age and her responsibility equal to one another. Unfortunately, that was not possible. She had become the mistress of this castle and her ability to manage her father's affairs was awe inspiring. She was a child and yet ...she wasn't. Not to the people who worked here, not to her father, but to him, she was at an age when she should be enjoying trivial things. He would do almost anything to change that for her, but she would not approve.

Belle watched him as he struggled with his emotions. Although she could not see his face, she knew it hurt him deeply to see her growing up so quickly. He had spoken of a son, a boy he'd not been able to watch grow up and she had heard the pain in his voice. She wanted to ask him what had become of the child, but she did not think they knew one another well enough for her to embark on that particular subject. Perhaps one day, when she was older and he no longer saw a child when he looked upon her, she might be able to ask.

She reached out, paused, and then let her hand drop to the blanket. She wanted to console him, she wanted to make him feel better about her station in life, but she knew that he wasn't physically there. She had come the conclusion several days ago that he did, in fact, exist, but that he came to her through the magic that was inherent in her world. He watched over her dreams, he watched over her ...sometimes, she thought, to an almost obsessive level, but physically, she could not touch him, could not hold him, could not make him understand that she did what she had to do.

She could feel the warmth in the room pulling her back toward sleep. She did not want him to leave, but she knew if she said anything he would remain there, all night and not return to wherever it was he came from. He had told her that he had a large castle, much like her own, but had not said whether he shared it with anyone. She was surprised at how sad it made her to think him lonely. She was not a dense child. She knew that had he a family or friends, he would not come to speak to her night after night.

Belle squinted, trying to see into the darkness of his hood. As usual, she couldn't see anything although the fire burned bright enough that she should be able to make out some of his features. It was eternally irritating and exciting; something that happened in the books she read and not in real life. She correctly assumed that he used magic to prevent her from seeing past the shadow he was always shrouded in. Perhaps one day that would no longer be necessary.

"What do you do in your castle?"

She could see that his mind had wandered off because his head came up and his attention returned to her.

"Magic," he replied without enthusiasm.

"Does it make you sad? To practice magic?"

Rumplestiltskin considered her and then, in the spirit of their friendship and their decision never to lie to one another, he answered honestly. "Not always. It does tend to be frustrating."

"Why?"

Under his hood, he smiled. "Lay back, Belle, and I will tell you a story."

She smiled and snuggled back underneath her blankets waiting for his warm voice with it's lilting accent to fill her mind.


	6. A Story

Rumplestiltskin pulled the covers up to Belle's chin, made sure she was warm and toasty and started speaking. As he talked, she closed her eyes and drifted away.

"Once upon a time there was a man. He was a small man, both in size and station, but he cared not. He had a beautiful son and a wife that he cared for. He did not love, as their marriage was an arrangement within his village, but he did care. Most of his attention was lavished upon his son. Perhaps that was his greatest failing, that he did not give his wife the time she needed after his son had been born. But then again, she was nothing if not hostile the majority of the time. He many times wondered what she had been promised to agree to their union.

She did not wish to be simple. She had plans to get away from the small village where they had both been raised and travel the world. She wanted to see different things. He was frightened of change and had no intention of leaving. He wanted their child to be raised in one place, surrounded by his friends and family. Not to find, later in life, that he had no friends because he had been moved from place to place constantly.

He had spent his childhood alone because he refused to fight with the other boys. He had been born with a club foot that caused him to limp severely. He did not run, or jump, or play, and his own father hated him for being handicapped. He tried, several times, to stand up to the many bullies who plagued him and each time found himself stomped into the dirt. It was a lonely existence, devoid of love or pleasure, but his mother taught him to spin and in watching the cotton turn magically into wool in his hands, he had found a place. Somewhere he could find solace, somewhere he could contribute, somewhere that allowed him to forget the hopeless world around him. No one bothered him when he was spinning and as he grew older, it became a refuge from the world. As long as he was being productive, the people in the village let him alone.

It was not a life he wished upon his son, but with no other recourse, he had accepted that it would be so. His wife, however, was not as easily convinced. It was 4 years into their union when the wars began. The Ogres, who had consistently been a plague on their lands, had somehow, despite their inherent stupidity, managed to join together. The man was not sure that the ogres had any plans beyond simply killing as many people as possible. It was certainly not the land they wanted, nor did they have need of the Duke's castle. The war seemed pointless, and with his foot as it was, he was certain it was a death sentence. When the men of his village were called upon to fight, he had pointed out that he would certainly be a hindrance to the soldiers and the Duke's men had agreed.

That did not prevent them from labeling him a coward. A designation that burned through their small village like wildfire. Coward. Not loving father, caring husband, accomplished spinner, but coward. This was the identity that stuck. For it was far easier to blame him for the deaths of the men of the village, than to accept that he was smarter than the others. He had known he would die if he set foot on that battlefield, and for that, he was branded. Not that he cared much. As long as his son was alive and well, he cared not what the others called him.

He supposed it was inevitable that his wife would leave him when she realized that he had no intention of removing either his son or himself from the village. Given an opportunity, and the adventure she so desired, she was gone. He attempted to bring her home, but found himself once again the victim of bullies. He many times wondered if he had been set up to fail. Why would his wife even let it be known that she had been taken if that is what she intended? Did she wish him to fight for her with his death being the conclusion? And what of their son? Would she have left him there? Left him to fend for himself at such a tender age? Had the man chosen to die by the sword, would his son too have died?

He did not know the answer, but his general demeanor made him unwilling to believe the worst of her. If she was happier now that she was away from him, that was probably for the best. He moved on as best as he could, becoming overly protective of his child. The wars ended and they lived in relative peace for many years. It was only when the ogres came again, some years later, that he found himself in desperate circumstances. Although he could not fight, the age limit for soldiers on the front lines had been lowered. His son would be of age in less than a week.

The choice to run had been made before he realized what he was doing. That they were caught by the Duke's Knights was entirely his fault. His boy was strong and brave and stood up for him when he was reminded of his cowardice. His hope was gone; the light of his world was about to be taken and snuffed out.

And then he was told an amazing story about the Duke and his magical dagger. A weapon that controlled the most powerful being in the land. The Dark One. If he could steal the dagger, he could prevent his son from being taken from him and with no other recourse, he did what he had to do. He used the last of his wool, soaking it in fat that would burn the floor and rafters of the castle in which the Duke lived, and took the dagger as the room in which is was housed burned.

It was not until he had called upon The Dark One, that he realized he was in over his head. He could not possibly control a creature with so much power, but it goaded him, asking if he honestly believed his son was really his child. Asking what he wanted it to do. Reminding him that the knights were certainly headed for his home to take his son away from him. He struck out in fear, and anger and pain, and as the Dark One passed from this realm he was filled up with so much power that it robbed him of breath, ripped open his soul and breathed a new life into his body.

It was like being filled with light; the power healed his body, made him fearless, but it also robbed him of the man he had been. The decent, kind man who loved his son more than anything. Eventually, he realized the light of power was a invitation to darkness, but by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. He was lost. He became obsessed with power, always wanting; needing more.

The child he had so loved became unfamiliar to him and yet, the boy loved him. Wished for him to be rid of the magic and the power that had changed him and while he would have done anything for his child, he could not do that. He was unable to go back to being the man he was. Eventually, he had driven the boy away. Pushed him away, really. His son had sought a way to rid him of the magic he clung to with such desperation, but when he found one, and the man had agreed he would do whatever the boy wished if he should find such a way, he could not allow it. Something inside of him; something dark and dangerous had reared it's head and let the boy get away from him.

His loneliness was acute. His sorrow complete. He had all the power he wanted, all the time he needed, but he did not have the only thing that meant something, the only person who had ever believed in him. He had given him up. The new Dark One promised that he would find a way to get the child back ...whatever it took."

Rumplestiltskin stopped talking and looked at Belle who was fast asleep. He wondered how much of the story she had heard. He hadn't really meant to talk for so long, or at such length, but she was deeply sleeping, so she had probably missed the majority of it. He stood and gently touched her forehead. It was an action he did not consider before it happened and in her sleep, Belle smiled.


	7. The Book

"There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense." 

Belle smiled and ran a finger along the words in a worn and tattered book she held in her lap. It was this one quote that she came back to day after day, always wondering if Bob felt like this at times. He seemed to hide himself away, even from her, although they had been friends for years. Five years ago today he had left this book by the fire. It had been a birthday gift and she had been delighted.

It was a perfect book for her. The author spoke of strong women unwilling to accept their station in life simply because that is what was expected of them. Women unwilling to marry just for the sake of securing a future of comfort. She sighed. If Elizabeth Bennett could choose love, why not her? Belle smiled and shook her head. Now was not the time to dwell on that which she could not have. She was simply nervous and it played with her mind, driving her to distraction.

She was to meet her future husband today. Naturally, at only thirteen, she was not to actually marry for several years, but her father had made bargains and promised riches he did not have to facilitate this union. The knight's name was Gaston. What kind of name was that? She had even looked it up and found basically nothing. She closed the book and sighed. Bob had been in a particularly bad humor last night and although they had talked, he had seemed distant. When she asked about it, he had said it was something he had to deal with on his own. It wasn't a lie. She knew that. They had agreed to always be honest with one another, and as far as she knew, they had been. It was also not the entire truth. It was a half-truth; something he clearly did not wish to talk about and that, in and of itself, was strange. She was usually the only person he would confide in when something plagued his mind, but the previous night had been different.

Belle could not fathom what had disturbed him so much that he couldn't tell her. He had always been willing to tell her anything. She knew that he was a sorcerer, and that he practiced not just magic, but dark magic and yet she had not judged him for his decisions. He had told her about his many dealings around the realm and that he traded magic for items he needed. He had not hidden from her the fact that he was very often cruel with other people, nor had he been unwilling to explain that he made exchanges carefully and always to his own benefit. She knew he was selfish, devious, lonely, dangerous and very possibly deadly, and still, she had been unwilling to judge him. That other people would look upon him in fear after making a bargain they did not understand made her angry. Why did people not listen to him when he explained and if he was vague about what he expected in return for his assistance, why did they not ask him to clarify before they made the agreement? It made absolutely no sense to her.

She supposed she was biased in his favor as he had always been so kind and generous to her. He had told her that she was his only friend and while on the whole she found that very sad, there was a part of her that felt a thrill of excitement in knowing he talked openly with her alone.

She opened the book again and tried to continue reading, but she couldn't. Her mind drifted back to Bob. Would he be upset; angry even, to find out she was betrothed? He had always been judgmental of her father and she did not think for a moment that he would be pleased about this. But what other choice did she have? She supposed she could say no, but did she really want to? At least the pressure of finding a husband was alleviated, and yet the romantic in her longed for a man she could not have. A man who would not even show her his face. A man who still claimed to be only shadow.

Belle knew it wasn't true. She remembered very clearly the touch of his finger on her forehead the night he'd given her this book. It was a subject she never spoke of; the fear of losing him, of him leaving and never coming back prevented her from saying anything. There was a reason, something of which he did not speak, that made him wish her to believe he was not physically present. It was the same reason that made him hide his face and although she wanted to ask him about it, had almost asked him about it hundreds of times, she simply couldn't. He remained hidden and while it was a constant frustration, Belle still said nothing.

There was a knock on her door and her father opened it a fraction. "Are you ready, my girl?"

She laid the worn book on the table beside her and stood, smoothing down the golden gown she was wearing. It was a beautiful dress. Silk and lace that flowed down her body and accented it in all the places she had noticed beginning to change. "Yes, Papa. I'm ready."

Her father opened the door all the way and she heard him gasp. Belle turned, concerned, but there was something else in his eyes, something sad ...it almost looked like loss. He smiled. "You look beautiful. You have grown up so fast." He paused and sighed. "Perhaps I should not have put so much pressure on you when you were a child. I didn't know what else to do."

Belle walked across the room and embraced him. "You have always done right by me, Papa. Do you think that I am unhappy?"

He shook his head, holding her tightly against him. "I hope that you are happy, but I haven't actually asked, have I?"

"A friend of mine told me that we all do what we have to do, Papa. That is what I did, that is what you did." She pulled back to look up at him. "I think we've done a pretty good job."

"Your friend is very wise," her father observed. "And you're right. We have done a good job. I hope this marriage will bring you comfort, Belle. Maybe when Gaston takes over as Lord of these lands, you will not be forced to do everything."

She knew he meant well; meant to take some of the responsibility from her shoulders, but she couldn't bring herself to agree with him. She would prefer to do everything herself rather than marry someone she didn't love, and she knew, without any doubt, that she would never love this knight. Her heart already belonged to someone, whether he knew it or not ...whether he cared or not. It had always been him. She wasn't entirely sure when her feelings had changed. She was still young, and he still treated her like a child. She felt reckless, as if she should do something to make him understand that no matter what he thought of himself, no matter why he hid in the shadows, she simply wouldn't care.

Her father stepped away and together they walked out the door. Belle glanced back at her room, her eyes falling on the book that lay on the table. She was not a child anymore. Truthfully, she hadn't been a child in many years, but as she walked away to meet the man she would marry, loss tugged at her heart. The loss of a childhood she had never known.

#

Rumplestiltskin watched from the shadows as Belle and her father came out of her bedroom. He saw the look on her father's face and knew there was a similar one on his own. His little girl, his precious little one, was growing up. She looked simply stunning in the golden gown she wore and nothing at all like the child he knew, or rather, like the child he had known.

Although he had been there every day of her life for the past five years, it had not hit him until this moment that she was slipping away. There would come a day, perhaps soon, when she would no longer need him. She would marry and have children of her own. He had known this day was coming, but he was still stunned. This young woman, walking beside her father, could not possibly be his Belle. His Belle was seven years old. A little girl who clutched a doll in the stable for comfort. What had happened to that child?

He couldn't say he was pleased that her father was selling her to the highest bidder like a goat, even though it was common. He had similarly been paired with his wife and yet, something inside him felt as if she was being stolen away. He could not reconcile the two sides of himself. The side who wished her to remain a child, to lay awake talking to him in her soft, gentle voice for the rest of her days, and the side who was so proud of the young woman she had become.

Belle had always been soft spoken, guiding her father's servants with a gentle hand that they loved and adored. It was that adoration that had fueled their acceptance of her as mistress. There was no one about the castle who did not love Belle, including him, and yet he felt almost jealous when someone touched her. So many times he had wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms, but he couldn't. It was imperative that she never know he was real ...or, more, that he was flesh and blood. Of course, after so many years, she knew he existed ...somewhere, but that he was not of this particular plane.

When she and her father disappeared down the hallway, he flashed into her room. He smiled when he saw the battered copy of the first book he'd given her sitting on her reading table. He was pleased that the words had struck a chord within her. He had a new book tucked under his arm. This one was a collection of works and significantly longer. It should keep her occupied for ...well, at least 48 hours. He opened it to his favorite passage, lay a slender, blue silk ribbon to mark the place, and left it there.

She would see it when she came home, and he hoped it would bring her some comfort no matter what happened during this meeting. If there was one thing he did know, it was that Belle had no desire to marry without love. She was a romantic at heart and she read far too many books with happily ever after at the end. She would do what she considered her 'duty' but she would never let herself be happy, at least not for many, many years. It caused him pain to think that she might be unhappy for a very long time, but what was he to do? Granted, he could just kill the sorry bastard who was today looking at a young girl and imagining his future with her, but she wasn't young anymore, was she? He had no right to impose his opinion on her life. For the gods sake, she didn't even know his real name.

He had an overwhelming desire to follow her to her meeting with this knight she had been sold to, but he refrained. Should the man do anything that made her uncomfortable or upset, he was likely to kill him. And while the idea certainly appealed to him, he did not think Belle would be amused, or grateful.

He did not know how much more time they had to spend together, but he would treasure each moment as if it was their last. When the time came, and she no longer required his presence to keep her loneliness at bay, he would depart gracefully, leaving her with happy memories of someone she knew in her childhood and nothing else. At least, that was what he was telling himself, and for now, it would have to be enough.

Rumplestiltskin looked down at the book and smiled. The quote fit their friendship perfectly.

"Time is very slow for those who wait  
Very fast for those who are scared  
very long for those who lament  
Very short for those who celebrate  
But for those who love time is eternal"


	8. Betrothed

Belle stepped out of her father's carriage and looked up. Good gods, did everyone have a castle? This particular castle was larger than hers with more battlements and towers than she'd ever seen. Honestly, it was fairly gaudy. She paused to wonder what Bob's castle might look like. Not that he'd ever confirmed or denied he lived in one, but she always seemed to think of Bob, and she thought of him more often than was strictly necessary, in a castle. Maybe it was the accent. Or ...she was, at this moment, terrified out of her mind and thinking about her best friend in the world calmed her. Yes, probably that one.

Her father led her to a huge, wood door that looked like it housed a giant. She sighed ...who knew, maybe it did. Her sigh caused her father to look at her. "Are you okay? Belle?" He seemed anxious and Belle felt it her duty to make sure he didn't feel any worse than he already did about her betrothal.

"Of course, Papa. I was just observing the Duke's overlarge door." She hadn't meant to add the last but it slipped out anyway. She blushed and looked away from him. It would do her no good to become snarky and sarcastic. If this was to be her lot in life then she would face it with the same acceptance she had everything else. Her mother leaving, her father becoming distant, servants she was forced to supervise, whatever she had to do, she would do it. It didn't matter that in her heart she wanted to be independent and strong; what mattered was her family and her people. For them, she would do anything.

A sharply dressed man in a red shirt, red leathers and a red cloak walked toward them. It was everything Belle could do not to laugh. He looked like Santa Clause. He nodded at her briefly and then turned all his attention on to her father. "Lord Maurice, good of you to come."

Belle saw her father stiffen and began to wonder just who's idea this arranged marriage had been? Maurice simply smiled. "The pleasure is mine Lord Avonlea."

"Where are my manners?" Lord Avonlea seemed to suddenly realize that until his son and Maurice's daughter were actually married, they were guests in his home. "Please, follow me."

Belle didn't listen to much that the Duke was saying. She peered around at the open courtyard which featured a fountain large enough to swim in. It was opulent, meant to impress or intimidate. She felt neither of those things. Belle had no need of anything so trivial. To spend perfectly good money; coin that would likely go a long way to feeding any of the people of Avonlea who were without, was a tragedy. Pretty baubles, as Bob had often told her, were often looked upon for a while and then discarded. It was best to collect something of use.

They passed though the courtyard and into the castle proper. Sunlight streamed in through a colored dome of stained glass so high she could not make out the image. She had to admit, the effect was beautiful, but unnecessary, as so much of this castle seemed to be. Avonlea led them into the great hall just beyond the entrance and approached a young man who was leaning against ...she paused, blinked, and stared. What was it with men and giant tables? As with their table at home, Lord Avonlea had a giant oak table that took up the better portion of the south wall. Had he a large family or was he, like her father, in denial? She smirked at her own joke and caught the eye of the man she had seen when they walked in. His eyes narrowed, as if he was angry that anyone would dare smile. Belle could tell already that if this was Gaston, they were not going to get along.

Lord Avonlea motioned Belle and her father in to chairs and sent a servant to get them tea. "Come, son, sit down."

"I've no need to sit, father. I only come to offer welcome and then I will need to be off again." The man spoke with an edge of irritation in his voice.

The elder of the pair was having none of it. "Sit down, son."

With an unhappy sound of indignation, he sat down next to Belle just as the servant came with tea and pastries. Although Avonlea was not far from her home, riding in a carriage always made Belle hungry, and as she had no desire whatsoever to impress anyone, she took the tea and pastry she was offered.

The Lord's son looked incredulous when she took a bite and Belle turned her attention on him. "My apologies. Were they simply for decoration?"

This actually caused his face to relax slightly. "No, My Lady, they are not. I must admit, however, I'm not entirely certain how old they are as my father seems to serve the same pastries every time we have visitors. I would think them stale and growing mold by now."

Belle laughed out loud and a genuine smile brightened her face. "I'll keep that in mind."

Her father and Lord Avonlea watched the exchange as if they were attending an uncommonly suspenseful play. The son laughed and held out his hand. "Sir Gaston of Avonlea."

Belle took his offered hand and used her rightful title to it's full potential. "Lady Belle of the entire Southland. Marshes and all."

Gaston smirked. "I brought that on myself. A pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"And you as well," Belle said, and she meant it. Perhaps he was not as bad as her original impression. He was easy enough on the eyes. Tall, broad, wearing leathers, a white tunic and a flowing red robe very much like his fathers. His hair was black and cut short. He had dark brown eyes that, in the proper light, or lack thereof, would look black as well. Yes, he was very handsome, this knight. She was relieved to a certain extent. While she did not place a great deal of value on aesthetics, he seemed pleasant, and capable of taking a joke. That fared well for their future.

His eyes roamed over her, taking in every minute detail of her appearance. The golden silk dress caught the light from the large windows, and each neatly cut stone that decorated it sparkled. Her hair was pulled back, away from her face, but still allowed to pool on her shoulders. She knew that this style made her eyes seem almost colorless, just hinting at blue. Gaston finished his study and seemed to be pleased with what he saw.

Belle had no interest in his opinion, but the pleasure in his eyes gave her a sense of pride. She would at least be able to stand at his side without him being embarrassed. She took a sip of tea and idly wondered how long it was necessary to stay here.

Gaston seemed to be thinking along the same lines because he downed his tea, stood and offered her a hand. "Would you like a tour, my lady?"

She placed her teacup and plate on the table and took his hand. "That would be lovely."

He bent at the waist, bringing her hand to his lips briefly, and pulled her out of her chair. "Then it shall be so." He looked at his father and Maurice in turn. "If you will excuse us, I promise to return her within the hour."

Both fathers looked pleased and nodded. Gaston tucked Belle's hand in the crook of his arm and they walked out of the room together.

#

He shouldn't be here. Rumplestiltskin looked at the tall knight who was leading Belle around like a sheep and felt his anger bubbling to the surface. He was almost to the point of being enraged, and yet he could not put his finger on why that was so. He knew Belle would have to marry at some point, but to have it shoved into his face like this was excruciating. His hands were sweating, his chest was tight and he fought the overwhelming urge to kill something. What on earth was wrong with him? The boy had been nothing but a gentleman while they walked through the castle together. He kept a tolerable distance between them, he did not try to take any liberties, Belle even laughed occasionally. So why did he feel like he was being bathed in acid?

Jealousy. The word rushed across his mind and he made no attempt to hold on to it. If he was jealous, he didn't want to know. Belle was a child. His eyes fell back on her and he sighed. She was not a child. Not anymore. She was a Lady, and today, she looked the part.

From his perch on the tallest tower of Avonlea Castle, he could see the changes Belle was going through. Her body was beginning to curve and shed away the last of her baby fat. Her chestnut hair, no longer braided, fell in gentle waves down her shoulders to the middle of her back. The sparkling golden dress set off her eyes and they flashed and sparked when she smiled.

As Gaston guided her back to the great hall, he put his hand in the small of her back. That one touch almost caused Rumplestiltskin to come out of his skin. He seethed and smoldered with distaste, wishing to cut off the offending appendage ...with a butter knife.

Jealous.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb, trying to fend off a headache. Generally speaking, as the Dark One, he was supposed to be immune to things like this, and yet, his head was pounding. Breathing was actually painful. It was fortunate he didn't use mirrors because he was betting his eyes were probably green by now.

Jealous. The voice in his mind reminded him over and over as the pair disappeared from sight. He shook his head. Of course he was jealous. For so many years he had been Belle's only confidant. She had spoken to him of things she wouldn't dream of bringing to her father. She had needed him and he didn't want to lose that feeling. He had been an evil bastard for so long that the idea of losing the only person who did not fear him was surprisingly horrific. There was nothing more to his jealousy. He lamented the loss of being the only person she could count on. He hated the fact that in just a few short years, his Belle would be comforted in the arms of a husband. If she fell sick, or despaired, it would not be he whom she called.

Rumplestiltskin flashed back to his castle and walked to his spinning wheel. He could feel his body relaxing the familiar sound filled his great room. He had always used spinning as an escape. It comforted him when nothing else could. He was in desperate need of that today.


	9. Uncovered

Belle arrived home late that afternoon. She hadn't expected to see Bob that day and wasn't entirely sure he would be there that evening. It was likely he knew that she had been betrothed, as he always seemed to know everything, and she was unsure if he would be angry or not. When she saw the book lying open on her reading table she smiled and walked toward it. He had not forgotten her. She paused to wonder why she ever doubted he would. It was not so much the book that caught her attention but the beautiful blue silk ribbon that lay on the page, marking the passage.

He had never given her anything quite this personal before. As she read over the passage, it was part of a play really, she was slightly confused as to what to think about it. Was he saying that he loved her? Was she reading too much into it? No, of course he wasn't, and yes, of course she was. Bob had been her friend for so long that she had started thinking of him often. It was something she was completely aware of, but she didn't know if she could stop. In a perfect world, her perfect world, he would pull back his hood, declare his love for her and never leave again. But then that was silly. He was many things to her; friend, father figure, adviser, comforter, defender, but he'd always kept a respectful distance between himself and any feelings he might have for her. She sighed. He didn't have 'feelings' for her, she told herself for perhaps the 2000th time. He was her friend, and nothing more. That she had grown to feel things for him that were entirely inappropriate was not surprising. She was a teenager, after all, and he was mysterious. To even begin to hope that he might act on those feelings was silly and juvenile.

She was only thirteen. Still a child, as much as she wished it to be different. She knew that any kind of relationship beyond friendship was impossible. Not only impossible but Bob would see it as wrong. He might one day come to see her as an adult but somewhere inside, she knew he would always see a child. No matter how old she got, or how many years they spent together. As such, she got in bed without any expectation of him being there and slowly drifted off to sleep.

It was stifling in her room. A fire blazed in the hearth, and somehow made the room uncomfortable. Belle sat up and looked around; her eyes finding Bob in the darkness. He came out of the shadows, as he usually did, and sat next to her. Belle's fingers itched. Her palms were sweaty. It was everything she could do not to reach up and pull the hood off his head. There was something inside of her that so desperately wanted to see what he looked like. Not so much aesthetically but just a face to go with the name. She many times wondered if he kept the hood on because he felt he was ugly. Didn't he know it made no difference to her what he looked like? Even if he was disfigured beyond all recognition to people he knew, she could see his heart and to her, that is where his beauty lay. She knew she could never feel anything other than joy if he willingly revealed himself. She smothered a giggle. The image in her mind at that revelation was not what she had intended.

She tried to look into his face, but she saw nothing. "I didn't know if you would come."

Bob cocked his head to one side and Belle could almost imagine him smiling. "I told you I would always be here."

"Are you angry?" Belle asked softly.

Bob shook his head and laughed. "Why in all the realms would I be angry?"

Belle sat up and leaned back against the headboard. "Please don't treat me like a child. You know where I went today."

"Of course I know. I always watch over you. I have always watched over you. I will always be here to watch over you. Am I happy about you being betrothed? Is that what you're asking me?"

Belle looked down at her blanket and nodded shyly.

She saw him start to reach out for her; almost put a finger under her chin to tilt her head so she would look at him. His hand was halfway to her face when he realized what he was doing and pulled it away. "Belle, please look at me."

Her startling blue eyes came up to look at him. They were brimming with tears.

"Oh sweetheart, please don't cry."

"Bob it's not your fault. Certainly when I act like a child you should treat me like one. But can you see that I am not a child anymore." Belle looked at him, her eyes pleading him to understand.

He shook his head slowly. "Of course I can see that," he said softly. "It would be impossible to miss."

Belle's hands were shaking. She wanted so badly to touch him. Perhaps it wouldn't matter, she reasoned. Clearly, he was going to leave her very soon. And while that brought her a great deal of pain, she didn't know if there was anything she could say to stop him. In fact she was positive there was nothing she could do and knew once he left he was never coming back.

She sat there, her fingers twisting in her lap, debating whether or not she should try to touch him. He sat very still, as if unsure whether he wanted that or not. Her instinct was to take his silence and stillness as a sign and go ahead, but then again, if he had chosen that path, why did he not simply do it on his own? He knew she had a crush on him and he had never said it displeased him.

It was clear the moment she came to a decision. Her hands stopped shaking, her face became determined, and although everything inside of her was screaming at her to let it alone and leave him his mysteriousness, her hands never paused in their movement. As if once she'd started, she was incapable of stopping.

It seemed in slow motion when she finally reached up and pushed the hood away from his face. He sat absolutely still. She knew he wanted to cover himself and yet he didn't.

Belle blinked several times as if she could not believe this was happening. Her eyes wandered over his face. He was a beautiful man. He appeared to be about forty, although he had told her he was far older than she could imagine. Soft brown hair curled down to his shoulders and warm eyes sparkled as they looked into hers. He smiled timidly and Belle laughed. "Are you afraid of me?" She reached out and took one of his hands. His skin was warm to the touch and she reveled in the fact that she was finally touching him.

He shook his head. "Not so much afraid as worried."

"I don't know why you would be worried. Don't you think it was inevitable that one day the hood would have to come off?" She sat still, gripping his hand, afraid to do anything more forward. No matter how she felt or what he might feel, she knew he still saw a little girl when he looked at her. His precious little one.

"I had hoped that I might be able to keep it from you for at least a few more years," he said.

Belle trailed her fingers over the top of his hand. "Why?"

He motioned at himself. "I am an old man, Belle. I should not even be here."

She smiled, looking into his eyes and shook her head. "I don't care."

"Yes, I know," he said with laughter in his voice. "But you should. I should."

She turned his hand over and traced the lines on his palm. "You should? But you don't?" Even to her own ears the words sounded less hopeful and more desperate. She didn't roll her eyes, although it took a great deal of effort. Could she possibly sound more her age than she did right now with her feelings tangled in a knot that was unlikely to ever be straightened again?

He shifted and for the first time she felt his weight, albeit slight, move the bed. He stared down at their hands, refusing to look at her. "I don't," he whispered. His voice, always a hoarse tenor, and lilting with a gentle accent, was soft, but not so much so that she didn't hear him.

She struggled not to smile when she looked up. Her face must have registered her relief because he reached out with his unoccupied hand and stroked his fingers down her cheek. Belle sighed. This was everything she'd ever wanted. Everything she'd dreamed of. It didn't seem real.

"What's your name?" she asked. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt like any moment she was going to pass out.

He opened his mouth to speak …

Belle shot up in bed. Her fire had died to embers while she slept. Dammit all, she had been dreaming ...again. The dreams were variations on a theme. She didn't really know what came after softly spoken words and gentle touches. She had seen young lovers press their lips together upon being wed, but her dreams never brought her that far. Always to the point where he was about to say his name. And she always woke before he could say it. She knew she had seen his face and yet every time she woke, the memory of what he looked like, beyond a vague recollection of brown hair and sparkling eyes, was gone.

The dream was always more detailed in her slumber, but it plagued her in the daylight as well. Several times she had been chastised during her lessons for letting her mind wander. She got up, stoked her fire, and returned to bed. Perhaps if she told him she knew he was real the dreams would leave her. Then again, if she told him he might leave her as well. It was a puzzle she did not have the answer to, but of one thing she was certain. One day, maybe soon, perhaps not for many years, but one day ...he would pull back the hood and tell her his name. All she could do was wait until he felt ready to trust her with such important information.

And yet ...and yet ...her thirteen year-old mind would not let it rest. He had known her for so long; had told her things she was certain he'd never shared with another person, ever. He had told her stories meant to frighten her, meant to push her away, and she had always been up to the challenge. Never once had she judged or balked at what he'd said he'd done. It was the past, something he could not change, and she was therefore unwilling to level charges against him. He had told her that one day she would understand that he was a monster, but Belle hadn't believed him them and she didn't believe him now. Besides, if, in fact, she would come to find him distasteful, why did he not just lay aside his cloak and let her look upon him? It was something of which he did not speak and she would be lying if she said it didn't bother her. How much longer was she to wait? Today had shown her just how limited their time together was, for she knew he would not come to her once she and Gaston had married. She sighed and lay back on her pillows, staring at the ceiling.

She had to make him understand. Had to convince him that it was important that she had a face to go with her memories. She had absolutely no idea how she was going to accomplish it, but she knew, without doubt, that she would.


	10. True Colors

Belle sighed ...again. When Gaston had called upon her and asked if she liked nature, she had no idea saying 'yes' would condemn her to die via exposure. They were currently deep in the forest, walking through dense scrub and never ending trees. She was wet, cold, sore and ready to go back home. To make the entire experience as bad as was humanly possible, the man did nothing but talk about himself.

One would think, given that they were supposed to be married in just a few short years, that he would ask her something about her life, her desires, her interests. Of course, one would also think he would run out of stories about himself. So far, he hadn't on either count.

"I entered the knighthood of Avonlea when I was 15. Usually, a man must wait until his 18th birthday to be official. I was unusually big for my age and I was something of a prodigy with weapons. My father didn't see any reason to keep me at home and petitioned the King on my behalf. I was definitely the most capable knight they had." He paused and glanced at her. Apparently he was expecting her to say something.

Belle offered him a muttered, unintelligible grunt and even though she hadn't said anything coherent, he took it as an indication to continue. "There hasn't been much to do, really. We've chased down some thieves and had them hanged ..." He stopped at her intake of breath. "Oh. I beg your pardon my lady. That is not something women generally concern themselves with, is it?" He was blessedly silent for several moments and then, "Anyway, we chased them all over the realm. At least it felt that way. I finally figured out that they were doubling back on their horses and creating sets of hoof marks that seemed to go in all different directions. Once I had studied the prints, I was able to tell which set had been made first. You see, every time they recovered their tracks, the original marks were pushed deeper into the ground. I suggested we measure the depth. It wasn't hard to find them after that. One of their females offered herself to me ...at 15, can you believe that? She thought I was much older. I guess I looked older than I was."

He continued to prattle on and Belle sighed internally. She wished Bob was there with her. He was a Sorcerer, perhaps he could permanently close Gaston's mouth. He had not seemed quite this self-absorbed when she had first met him. It always amazed her what you found out about someone upon closer acquaintance. Gods, did he ever stop talking? She supposed he must, unless he talked in his sleep. She pondered that for a moment. She wouldn't be at all surprised if he did.

"Now that I'm 19, I guess I've caught up with my age. I still have a lot of women ..." he stopped and Belle's relief was intense and immediate. She had no idea what he'd been talking about, but the silence was heaven. He apologized. "That is inappropriate. I apologize. You're just so easy to talk to."

Belle smirked sarcastically. Of course she was easy to talk to; she didn't say anything. Did her father really expect her to marry this man? Well, yes, he obviously did or she would have been saved the tedium of knowing Gaston at all. They were going to have a serious conversation when she got home. Assuming, of course, that she made it home and wasn't eaten by a bear.

"Belle?" Gaston was looking at her expectantly.

She glanced up at him. "My apologies. I was lost in ..erm ..the beauty of this forest. What was it you said?"

"Did you want to stop? We can build a fire, sit and talk some more?" He looked as if he expected her to simply agree.

Rather pushy, wasn't he? Belle considered the question for several minutes in silence. On the one hand, a fire would be lovely as her fingers were probably about to fall off. On the other, if they kept walking she might soon pass out from dehydration and he would be forced to both be silent and take her home. It was a conundrum. Gaston simply stood there staring at her, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. Belle finally nodded. "A fire sounds fine, Gaston. Thank you."

He grinned and nodded at a fallen log. "Have a seat. I'll take care of everything."

Belle sighed and sat down. At Gaston's insistence she had worn leather breeches and boots instead of a dress, which would be fine except she was unused to having anything covering her legs so completely. It was uncomfortable to say the very least. They were also wet, which made them cold. Obviously, leather did not breathe well. She shivered as he knelt across from where she was seated, dropped the wood he had gathered onto the ground and began to stack it. Several minutes later a small, but warm fire was crackling in the cool air. She had to give him credit. He was, at least, a competent fire builder.

He stood, brushed off his knees and hands and sat down beside her. Belle leaned forward, trying to absorb the warmth, but she still shivered. He put his arm around her and tucked her into his side. It might actually have been, if not nice, at least warm if his clothes hadn't been as cold and wet as hers. As it was, the added chill made her shiver more violently. He took that opportunity to completely misread the situation and reached over to turn her face toward him.

When he pressed his lips to hers she had no idea what to do. It wasn't like she had any experience in these matters. His tongue pressed against her lips and she instinctively clamped them tighter together. What on earth was he doing? He raised his head briefly, his breathing slightly shallow, to instruct her to open her mouth and then crushed her mouth with his again before she had time to prevent it. His tongue slipped inside and she valiantly tried not to gag. It was intrusive, and boorish, and completely disgusting.

He finally pulled away and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I forget how young you are. You seem so much older. You've never kissed a man, have you?"

Belle lowered her eyes and shook her head. She was afraid if she opened her mouth to say anything, he would kiss her again and this time, she might actually gag which would do nothing good for his ego. There was a possibility that his ego was so overblown by now that he wouldn't notice anyway, but she was hoping she would have no need to see if that was the case.

He reached out, and with the tips of his fingers, tilted her head up so she would look at him. It was a mirror of what Bob did in her dreams ...or rather, what he started to do. Gaston gave her a soft smile. "My apologies. I have overstepped my boundaries. I did not bring you out here to take advantage of you, I promise."

Well, that was good to know. He had limits and that was always a bonus. "I know very little of such matters, Sir Gaston."

He shifted and sighed. "Don't be angry, Belle. There is no need for us to return to such formalities. You are to be my wife, after all. It is too soon for you right now, but give us a few more months. It won't be quite so surprising when we know one another better."

Belle mentally added 'clueless' to her grievances against Gaston and nodded. "Of course."

He slipped off the log so he was sitting on the ground next to her legs and leaned against her. "This has been really nice. Maybe we can do it again."

Belle honestly wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to her. She was guessing the former because if he was asking her, she would give him a resounding, "Oh gods no!" And that applied to both walking in the forest and kissing. She stared into the fire and wondered what it would be like to kiss Bob. As she had no idea what he looked like, it was hard to imagine anything. She assumed he must have lips, since he spoke to her constantly. Would they be soft and gentle? Would he, unlike Gaston, realize that these were unfamiliar waters for her? Would he take the time to show her how to do these things properly? So far, she did not have a very high opinion of kissing. It seemed both pointless and rather revolting, but was that due to the person she kissed or was it a universal truth? She would ask Bob, but she thought that kissing might be one subject he would be unwilling to pursue. Death, destruction, magic, murder, he was good with those topics, but kissing, the relations between a man and wife ...she had no idea, but as she also had no one else to talk to about it, he was going to have to suck it up and explain it to her. She knew he'd been married before, and that he'd had a son, so he should know all the in's and out's of marriage.

As much as she was sure he would hate every, single moment of it, she also knew he would not let her enter into married life blind. No matter how uncomfortable the topic might be for him, Belle knew he would answer her questions to the best of his ability. It was a conversation she did not look forward to. Under other circumstances, she might find his discomfort amusing, but with the dreams she had been having since her betrothal to Gaston, she feared she might ask something of Bob that had nothing to do with her marriage and everything to do with her feelings for him. The very last thing he needed to know was that the crush she harbored in her heart grew exponentially each and every time he came to see her. It had taken up residence inside her, and she had no idea how or if she could get rid of it. She didn't even know if she wanted to.

His presence was like a siren call. Drawing her toward him, filling her with a sense of belonging no one else could provide. He was her safe haven. Her refuge. He was consistent. No matter the subject, he always answered her without judgment or reproach. That was the basis of their friendship. They listened to one another; helped one another and did not lay blame or point fingers. It was the kind of relationship she had hoped to have with her husband, but now that she knew him better, she was beginning to think that was impossible. He cared nothing for her thoughts or feelings. The only person who seemed to matter to Gaston was ...well, Gaston.

He sighed and climbed to his feet, kicking dirt on the fire to douse the flames. "I'm sorry Belle, but we really need to get back. I had a good time. I hope we can do this again soon."

"Okay," Belle responded with enthusiasm about equal to someone being led to the gallows. Gaston seemed not to notice. He took her hand and crushed it all the way back to the castle.


	11. The Birds and the Bees

Over the years, Rumplestiltskin had been asked many questions. Everything from, "Will you help me?" to "Please don't kill me." And yet, in over two and a half centuries of life, never once had he been asked to explain about ...relationships ...to a girl. He sighed. He was so screwed.

He was sitting next to Belle, as he usually did. He had known she was waiting to talk to him when he flashed in. She was sitting in a chair near the fire, reading the book he'd given her for her birthday nearly 8 months ago. As he had never known Belle to suffer from insomnia, even when something was on her mind, one look had convinced him that he might have been better off remaining at the Dark Castle.

"Belle?"

She was so engrossed in the book that she started. "Oh! You scared me."

"I was trying to be as quiet as possible. Are you okay?," he asked, his voice filled with concern.

She stood and he averted his eyes; looking anywhere but at the young woman who insisted on wearing a silk nightgown that clung to her body in ways he had no desire to analyze. He knew she wore it for him, and while part of him found that eternally flattering, the majority of him didn't want to notice that there was anything to look at to begin with. "I'm fine. I was about to go to bed anyway. I'm glad you came."

Under his hood, he smiled and followed. She crawled beneath the covers and he waited until she had pulled them up to her chin before sitting down beside her. He almost sighed aloud. This was much more familiar than having her wandering about in a nightgown. "Did you have a nice day with your young man?" Belle made a face and he almost laughed. Was it right or normal that he was delighted that she found that boy to be as dull as he did? "Was it that bad?"

"Worse." She fidgeted, stretching out under the covers, unable to lay still.

Rumplestiltskin knew something was up. He didn't know what, but as there was very little that embarrassed his Belle, and she knew she could ask him anything, the fact that she was nervous did not bode well for this conversation. "Why don't you just go ahead and ask me."

She glanced up, looking at him. "He kissed me."

There was a pounding in Rumplestiltskin's ears as fury rushed through his body. That boy was well on his way to disembowelment. Did he not understand that Belle was too young for that sort of thing? Okay, granted, his wife had been 14 when they had married and he 18, but Belle was not 14 yet. She had at least four months. He felt a feral growl trying to crawl its way out of his throat and tamped it down. It would not do for him to appear angry or jealous. He knew Belle had a crush on him and he had to make sure he didn't encourage it. He took a deep breath, grateful for once that she could not see the dark look he was certain was on his face. "He shouldn't have." Those three words were about all he was capable of at the moment.

Belle nodded. "I know and he apologized, but ..."

It was the 'but' that made him wish he could flee. As fast as he was able. He knew, however, that he couldn't and he wouldn't. "But what?" She remained silent, looking up at him with indecision. "Belle, please. You know you can ask me, don't you?"

She nodded and then all her concerns spilled out of her at once. "I didn't know what I was doing. He used his tongue and it was really ...well, gross, but is that what a couple is supposed to do? I think ...I think I might be doing it wrong. Everyone I've ever heard talking about this sort of thing were always very complimentary of kisses. They said it made them tingle all over; that they could see stars behind their eyelids. And ...and ...a man and wife lay together, don't they? There is no book on this subject in the library and I fear that he will be disappointed after we wed if I know nothing ...nothing about ...well, you know ...about the intimacies of marriage."

Rumplestiltskin sat in stunned silence and for the first time truly wished he had a book that would explain what she was asking him. He remembered having this exact conversation with Baelfire. It had been awkward with his son; with Belle it was downright frightening. "Belle, you should perhaps speak with your father about this."

She shook her head. "No. I just can't. He would be horrified."

'I know exactly how he feels.' He didn't say it, but for once, he could identify with Lord Maurice.

Belle's voice was soft when she spoke again. "This is something my mother would have told me about, isn't it?"

That decided it. He would not have her saddened because of that selfish woman. "Yes. Usually. But in this instance it will have to be me." He saw her visibly relax. She had clearly been afraid to ask him and he didn't want that.

She smiled. "Thank you."

"Oh, sweetheart, don't thank me yet. I must admit that the subject makes me uncomfortable. I'll do the best I can." She nodded and he continued. "Uhm ...well, first things first, you did nothing wrong. Yes some people kiss very ..." He sighed. He was never going to get through this. "Deeply, but not everyone enjoys it. That type of kiss is usually reserved for two people who are very close. Since you don't really know Gaston that well, I'm not surprised you did not enjoy him kissing you." He wanted to assure her it would get better, but he couldn't honestly say it would. Eventually she would come to tolerate her husbands kisses no matter how disgusting she found them, but real enjoyment came on the heels of desire and love. Things he didn't know if she would ever feel for Gaston. That ridiculous boy should have known that Belle was inexperienced. Rumplestiltskin was willing to bet that he did know and simply couldn't be bothered to care. What was her wedding night to be like if that boy sought only his own pleasure? Once again, the desire to maim and kill overwhelmed him. He had to get a grip.

"I suppose it will get better once we are more familiar with one another. That's what he said as well," Belle said without conviction.

Rumplestiltskin wanted to lie to her with every fiber of his being, but he found he was incapable. They had always been honest with one another. He was not about to change that now. "I honestly don't know if it will get better, Belle. I hope it does."

She nodded. "I heard one of the maids talking about her wedding night. She said it hurt when he ...what I mean is that she said ...he ..." She faltered and fell silent. What she wanted to know was exactly what had hurt and if it was possible to avoid it. She had been determined to have this conversation, to be knowledgeable about the things that were to come, but she found herself unable to continue. If marriage was this much of a hassle, she would prefer to become an old maid. She heard Bob swallow nervously. "I know this is hard for you, Bob, but I don't have anyone else to talk to. Not about this."

"Do you think you can learn to love him, Belle?" he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

She scoffed, her voice despondent. "I doubt it." She did not add that her heart had not been available for a very long time.

Something inside Rumplestiltskin relaxed at this revelation. He shouldn't care, in fact he should want her to find love and be happy. Okay, he did want her to find love and be happy, just not with that useless boy. "When married people lay together Belle there are ...uhm ...many factors that determine whether it ...whether it ...hurts or not. Of course, as you will be ...you will be ...uhm ...untouched, it will be more difficult for you, but if your husband is gentle it doesn't have to be unpleasant." His breath came out in a gust. He had no idea how he'd managed to get through that. She was a maiden, she was inexperienced, and given her description of Gaston's kiss, he found it very unlikely he would take her pleasure into consideration on their wedding night. An image of Belle thrashing about in pain as that ...that ...idiot shoved himself into her ...no, he couldn't even finish the thought. If he began to dwell on it he was likely to go to Avonlea Castle and make sure that boy would never be able to hurt his Belle. And he had no intention of killing him.

Belle sat up and leaned against the headboard. Rumplestiltskin almost sighed audibly. He knew that look. It was the look that said she was warming to a subject, becoming more curious, and very likely to ask more questions.

"It didn't hurt," she said quietly and he nearly imploded.

"What?" He stood and walked to the fireplace, turned, looked at the young woman laying in bed and walked back to her side. "What do you mean?" Because you better not mean what you just insinuated.

"When he ...you know, when ...when he kissed me. It was wet, and slimy ...and I would prefer not to repeat it, but he didn't hurt me."

All of Rumplestiltskin's bones became liquid at once and he nearly melted into a puddle on the floor. Of course she thought he was talking about kissing; that was all she knew. He closed his eyes in silent thanks. "The act of the marriage bed is not the same as kissing, little one."

"Don't call me that," Belle snapped at him. "I am not little."

He sat back down, reached out and let his fingers trail down her cheek. "I know you're not little."

Belle froze. He was touching her. He may not realize he was doing it, but he was touching her face, and the gods help her, she never wanted him to stop. His fingers were soft and warm; the sensation so soothing that it made her lethargic. Her eyes fluttered shut as he sat there, lost in thought, stroking her face. She knew he would eventually realize what he was doing and so she focused every ounce of her attention on remembering the sensation of his fingers on her skin.

He stopped suddenly, pulling his hand away from her with a hiss of anger. Not at her, she knew, but at himself. His hand fell into his lap and he sighed heavily. "Well, crap." Belle looked up at him, trying to gauge how upset he was. Her frustration at not being able to see his face returned with a vengeance. She started to reach for his hood, but his hand came up and grabbed her. "No, Belle. Please. Leave it alone. I think I've managed to do enough damage for one evening."

Belle shook her head. "You didn't. I knew, Bob. I have always known. Since I was eight." She was so very glad that he knew. Perhaps their ...friendship could go to another level now. One that allowed for him to discard that cloak. He was still holding on to her hand.

"We'll have to finish this conversation another night. I have to go."

She grasped on to him tighter. "Please. It's okay. Don't leave thinking you have done something wrong. Please." Tears filled her soft blue eyes and one escaped, leaving a trail down her cheek. "Don't leave me."

He couldn't stand to see her hurting, and wiped the tear away. "I have to leave, Belle."

The tears came in earnest. "I cannot possibly face the future without you. Don't make me."

It finally dawned on him what she was saying and he shook his head. "Oh, sweetheart, no. I'm not leaving forever. I promise. I'll be back tomorrow. I just ...actually have to leave. There is something I need to deal with at King George's court."

Belle felt naive, and young. She wiped away her tears, still clutching his hand. "So you're not ..."

"Running away because you know that I am flesh and blood?"

"Yes, that," she said.

He stood, retrieving his hand, although he'd have left it with her if he could ...and there was a truly disturbing image. "I don't think I could even if I tried, Belle. Without your friendship, I would forget that I can be decent. You give me a reason to believe that perhaps there is hope for me yet."

Belle flushed at that admission. She almost said it; came so close that her mouth had formed the 'I' before she realized what she was doing. "There is always hope, Bob. Be safe."

"When did you become so old?" he asked with humor.

She smiled. "I have always been like this. It just took you forever to see it."

He didn't know what to say so he simply raised his hand in salutation and flashed out.


	12. The Dark One

Belle was not nearly as concerned about being with Gaston since she had spoken to Bob. It had been several months since that conversation; since he had accidentally reached out to comfort her and in doing so gave away that he was, in fact, physically there. Since then, he had been much less distracted during their talks. He laughed more, she imagined he smiled more, she supposed it must be easier to be who he was when he wasn't constantly reminding himself that he was supposed to be incorporeal.

She would not be seeing him tonight, however. Gaston had been to see her several more times since their first walk in the forest, and he had either realized she had no interest in being cold or wet or walking for miles on end, or he had made a choice to actually attempt to get to know her. He had not tried to kiss her again, something for which she was eternally grateful. He had also introduced her to several of his friends. Both male and female, and a couple of them were actually close to her age. They were all going the Duke's summer home to spend an evening free of adult intervention. Belle was excited. She knew Gaston would never try anything with other people around them, and spending some time with people her own age sounded like a gift.

When she arrived at Avonlea Castle in her father's carriage she noticed that the giant oak door was open. It was strange for Lord Avonlea to leave it ajar. He was usually very anal retentive about securing his castle against possible foes. She grabbed her bag and went into the castle to search for Gaston.

She was about to enter the Great Room when she heard voices, one was high-pitched, almost childlike with an edge of mischievous glee, the other was clearly Lord Avonlea. She poked her head cautiously around the corner and caught her breath. What in the realms was that? Well, 'that' might be unkind ...what was ...perhaps not an 'it' so much as a very strange looking he.

He was dressed as most of the well to do gentlemen Belle had ever seen. Leather breeches, leather boots, and what appeared to be a leather vest of some kind underneath an extravagant coat. The coat, if she was not mistaken, was made of dragon skin. What caught her attention most, however, was not his clothing. He was small, impish, perhaps only a few inches taller than she was. His skin was the color of the swamps which lay at the far reaches of the Southlands. Could he be from that area? Did they just naturally have mossy gray skin? He turned slightly and Belle caught her breath. There was something …it might have been him, or it might have been a play on the light streaming in the windows, but it caught her attention. She paused, watching him move as if he was incapable of being still for more than a moment. Each time he crossed the patch of sunlight, his skin glinted with specks of gold. She could see it was raised and textured like a reptile, and he had curly brown hair that hung down to his shoulders. Everything combined together to make him ...if not handsome, at least unique. She found her curiosity piqued and moved so that she might get a better look.

The strange man stopped speaking suddenly and turned his head. Their eyes met and held. She was absolutely fascinated. She could not tell from this distance, but his eyes too, while clearly black, seemed to have a splash of gold over the iris. It was stunning; she found herself unable to pull her eyes away from his. They were like that for perhaps 30 seconds when a hand shot out and pulled her back. It clamped over her mouth. Belle struggled, but then heard Gaston's voice whispering in her ear. "Shhh, it's me."

She reached around and smacked him, but kept her voice as low as his. "What was that for? You scared me."

"Sorry, Belle, really. The Dark One is here talking to my father. I didn't want you to interrupt them. He's not known for his warm, fuzzy side." Gaston looked anxious; almost panicked.

Belle had no idea what he was talking about. "Who is the Dark One? That man in the Great Room? Is he dangerous? Is your father's safety in jeopardy?"

Gaston shook his head. "No. Come on, I'll tell you all about it in the carriage."

He led her outside and they joined two of their friends in the smallest of Lord Avonlea's carriages. They were unusually subdued until the carriage was on its way and a good 15 minutes had passed. Clemson, whom everyone called Clem, was a tall, broad, recently turned 18 year-old with a quick smile and ready laughter. He was also Gaston's best friend. Next to him sat Lydia, his girlfriend of three years. She was 15, soon to be 16. Clem and Lydia had been paired together when she was 13, much as she and Gaston had been. They had an easy camaraderie that Belle envied. Gaston cleared his throat and everyone fell silent except Clem who seemed to be brimming with curiosity. "What did the Dark One want?"

Gaston shook his head. "My father summoned him. I have no idea why, but I hope it's not something he'll regret."

Lydia looked up. "I hope you told him to read the fine print on any contracts."

Belle interrupted. "My apologies, but who is the Dark One ...or what is he?"

"No one really knows, to be honest," Clem said. "They say he's been around since the beginning of time. My great grandfather had dealings with him and if I recall correctly, they never ended well."

Gaston reached over and took Belle's hand. "They say he's part man and part demon. My mother used to tell me stories about him. He is brimming with dark magic. It ebbs and flows around him like the tide. His skin is as hard as dragon scales, his eyes black as the night and he is immortal."

To Belle, he sounded frightening. Why would anyone deal with him at all? But, Gaston had said his father had summoned him. She was suddenly very sorry he had noticed her standing there. "What was your father doing with him, Gaston? Is he going to be okay?"

"As long as he keeps his part of their agreement, he'll be fine." He put his arm around her and pulled her against his side. She had, over the last several months, gotten used to him touching her. She felt it was a fair trade. If he kept his tongue to himself, she was happy to hold his hand and use his body for warmth. She didn't find it terribly comforting, but if she closed her eyes, she could imagine Bob was there instead, holding her close, protecting her.

"I don't understand. What kind of agreement?" Belle asked. This Dark One sounded horrible. What would make anyone want to do business with him?

Gaston leaned back in his seat. "They say he can do anything. Give you anything. Quite literally. Anything at all, but for his services there is always a price to be paid. He doesn't take money; I was always told he had no need of it. Instead he asks for the one thing you value most and would therefore be most unwilling to give. It is said he can hear your thoughts; knows what you're feeling."

Belle was still confused. "If you won't give it up, how ..."

"Ahh .." Gaston interrupted. "I didn't say you wouldn't give it, just that you'd be unwilling. The stories say he always knows exactly what will cause you the most pain."

"What if he asks you to kill someone?" It was the most horrific thing Belle could think of in the moment.

Clem joined in to the conversation. "You can always say no, from what I understand. I don't know that many people have, but the choice is always there. Should he ask you to kill someone for him, which seems unlikely given how much magic he has, you can refuse. The worst story I've heard about him was that he asked a woman for her unborn child."

Belle's shocked intake of breath caused her friends to laugh. "That's horrible. What kind of monster would take your child from you? And if he is a demon, what use could he have for a child in any case?"

Lydia leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Don't they make blood sacrifices when using dark magic?"

"That's very true," Gaston said, looking down at Belle. "Maybe that's what he needs the children for."

"And your father is dealing with him at this moment?" Belle was actually concerned for Lord Avonlea. She knew there would never be a circumstance under which her father would deal with such a creature, but she did not know the Duke very well. She knew they had plenty of money, so what would be so desperate that he would seek the aid of something clearly evil?

Gaston did not seem concerned. "Don't worry, Belle. My father knows what he's doing."

Belle was not so sure. "Has he dealt with this Dark One before?"

He shook his head in the negative. "The Dark One has never been accused of being unfair. If you agree to his terms then he expects you to fulfill your end, but you can always refuse with no consequences. That's just how it works. My father is a smart man. He won't agree to anything ridiculous."

The group fell quiet and Belle's mind took off like a rocket. What kind of person would call upon a demon to help them? Those two things should be mutually exclusive. She simply could not fathom anything so desperate that someone would give up everything and yet, for stories like these to circulate, there must be some truth to them. Naturally, she knew that they were not entirely true, as gossip rarely was, but as with myth and legend, there was probably some reality within the tale. It was a frightening thought. Somewhere out there was a creature who was capable of making your dreams literally come true. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed, whatever you desired ...he could apparently make it happen. She paused briefly to wonder if he would be willing to make Bob fall in love with her so he would take her away from a wedding that drew inevitably closer.

She actually had spoken to her father, emphasizing how much she disliked the man, but her father had been adamant. Gaston was from a good home, he had a powerful father, the addition of Avonlea to the Southland holdings would be beneficial to both parties. She had left her father's study in such a foul temper that she had managed to snap Bob's head off about his continuing determination to wear that cloak and shadow himself in darkness. Subsequently, he had left for the evening, causing Belle a great deal of distress. She wanted to call off this trip Gaston had planned, but as much as she wished it was not so, she was still betrothed to the man, and it would appear that he was trying to be less pompous and annoying. He had also become more aware of her feelings, and was beginning to remember that although she would be 14 in a few weeks, she was still quite young. She definitely did not want to put that in jeopardy. If he was willing to think about someone other than himself, he might be at least tolerable by the time they were married.

The carriage came to a stop and Belle looked up to see that darkness had fallen while she had been lost in thought. "Are we here?"

Gaston jumped out of the carriage and offered her a hand down. "Yes. I told you it wasn't far. This is only the summer house. We stay here overnight when we travel to the summer castle. It's on the coast, looking out over the ocean. I hope one day we'll be able to go there and spend some time."

Belle actually smiled. "I would like that. I have never seen the ocean, but I would love to if given the chance. Is it very different from the lakes around Avonlea?"

He nodded. "When I stand on the beach and look out across the water, I feel like I can see to the end of time. It goes on forever."

It took Belle several moments to peel her eyes away from Gaston. She had never heard him speak like that before. It was almost poetic. Given how much she knew about him, it was also slightly disturbing.

She gasped when she got a good look at the summer 'house.' It was not so much a house as a mansion. Much like Avonlea Castle, it was glamorous. The grass was neatly cut, the garden was clearly tended to regularly and was brimming with roses, the windows across the front gleamed from being polished constantly. It was not nearly as gaudy as the castle, but the air of importance; of making the statement that Lord Avonlea was very wealthy and should therefore be respected was absolutely clear. Belle had no need of these kinds of over the top statements. She preferred to earn respect; had earned it, from everyone who worked in and around her home. That said volumes about her without her having several homes, five carriages and more servants than necessary. Instead of using her father's money to give herself a boost, she was kind, fair and soft spoken. That did not mean that she was a pushover, as a few of the castle attendants had discovered recently. She was made of iron when necessary.

Gaston proffered his arm. "Shall we?"

She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and they walked into the house. Lydia and Clem followed them. Belle was determined to enjoy herself. It was the first time she'd been alone ...well, reasonably alone, in her life. It was a peaceful feeling. Was this what it would like to be married? Could she be content just dealing with servants and spending the rest of her time in leisure? Perhaps.

As they entered the house, Belle was feeling slightly more optimistic about her future.


	13. Dragon Slayer

Rumplestiltskin saw her when she looked around the corner, but in a desperate effort to maintain his flippant attitude toward Lord Avonlea, he ignored her presence. It was everything he could do not to summon his cloak from the Dark Castle and cover his face. It was the strangest sensation he'd ever experienced. Belle was there, she was looking at him, and while he knew she had no idea who he was, it was still incredibly unnerving. That she was not running away as most children did when they saw his face made it still stranger, and when she moved further into the room to get a better view, he nearly snapped and yelled at her to leave. Not that it was her fault necessarily; it was just unbelievably uncomfortable to have her looking at him. She was staring at him with that kind of unabashed frankness that only young people were really capable of. She did not look disgusted or frightened, but rather her face registered surprise and open curiosity. He really had to talk to her about her need to know everything. Eventually it was going to get her into trouble.

Lord Avonlea fell silent as he realized the Dark One was no longer paying him any attention. Rumplestiltskin turned his head, and for the first time, without a hood and shadows, met Belle's eyes. The sunlight streaming into the room made her eyes so pale they were almost translucent. A blue so pure it might have belonged in the sky. They widened slightly when they met his own; not out of fear, but rather as if she found something there that interested her. He almost panicked. Did she somehow know? Was that the reason she did not fear him? No. That was impossible. She had been making both subtle hints and outright demands for months that he take his cloak off. When last he'd seen her she had told him not to get anything for her birthday. She had said he knew what she wanted, and it was not something he could buy or trade for.

It was the one gift he could not give her. It felt very much like his inability to give up his power and follow Baelfire to the land without magic. Instead of power, however, what he could not give was his identity. Surely she had been told stories of the evil Dark One who preyed on the unsuspecting people of the realm, and other realms should he feel the desire. She had once told him that she did not blame him for people's stupidity. If they were either unable or incapable of reading a simple contract, or asking him to clarify should he be vague about his price, then the fault lay with them. He wondered if she would still feel the same if she knew the price was always the one thing that mattered most to the other party.

In this instance, it was Gaston, Lord Avonlea's only son. The Duke had been trying to dissuade him from his price when Belle had peeked inside the room. Rumplestiltskin was not generally in the business of killing people. Murder tended to mar the soul to such an extent that it never really healed. He knew from firsthand experience. No matter how much you wished it; no matter how much the person might deserve it; it still took a toll, even on him. That was why he usually allowed for someone or something else to do it for him.

He watched as Gaston's hand crept around the corner, grabbed Belle's arm and pulled her away. His first instinct was to go after her, make sure she wasn't bruised and then turn that boy into a eunuch, but it was not his place. Not right now.

He let it go, however reluctantly, and turned his attention back to the sputtering Duke. "You have my price. Shall I go or not?"

"I don't understand why you can't rid these lands of the Ogres altogether," Lord Avonlea said with fear in his voice.

"I could, but there are others who would soon take the place of their felled comrades. I can push them back to the Northlands for you. It will give you time to make alliances, prepare an army, and have the capability to defend yourself. You might even live." He giggled; his singsong voice grated on the nerves of the Duke, he could tell ...in fact, that was exactly why he used it.

"He is my only son," Lord Avonlea protested. "And only just 20."

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Yes. And James is King Georges' only son. They need brave, capable knights to accompany James. Think positive dearie, your son is to be a dragon slayer. He will be hailed a hero ...should he live. You should be very proud."

Lord Avonlea shook his head. "Although my son is more than capable as a knight, he hasn't a clue how to fight a dragon. I know King Midas has lost many knights to the dragon you speak of. It is a man-eater. None have come back alive, so in essence, you are asking me to send my son to slaughter." The Duke was a violent shade up purple. He was seriously angry. "I ask only what will benefit this entire kingdom and that would include King George and his son."

The Dark One was unmoved by this declaration. "Your son will pack his things and report to King George by Thursday next should you decide to accept my price. I promise you, my lord, if you refuse to meet my price and break our deal, I will bring this castle and everything you hold dear down around your ears. All magic comes with a price. This is yours. It will take the Ogres at least two years, if not more, to replenish their numbers. It will give you the time you need."

The Duke fell silent. He knew he was not going to be able to persuade the Dark One to change his price. He had a choice, but both outcomes were equally bad. Push the Ogres back to the North and build up their defenses so that their people might live, but in doing so send his only son to face a dragon that had yet to be defeated by anyone, or send his son off to war when the Ogres grew too close to Avonlea, and at the rate they were going, it would be only weeks. He finally sighed and nodded. "I agree to your terms. Gaston is gone for this evening, but he will return tomorrow. I will explain his duties to him them."

"And where was it that he went?" Rumplestiltskin did not actually care, but he feigned polite interest.

A smile, the first he'd seen since he had arrived here, crossed Avonlea's face. "He, his betrothed and another couple, who are friends of theirs, are going to the summer house to spend the night."

Rumplestiltskin staggered, grasped the back of a chair, steadied himself and turned his full and entire attention on the Duke. "Alone? Two young couples are spending the night together alone?"

"I trust my son completely. He would never take her maidenhead without her first being his wife. He's a good boy. He can wait until the wedding night for that." Avonlea clearly trusted his son far more than Rumplestiltskin did.

He started to say something ...about Belle, and how young she was (not yet 14), and how inexperienced she was, and how if Gaston did anything to hurt her he would not have to worry about being eaten by a dragon as his life would be forfeit, but he couldn't. He had to maintain his distance. Allowing for someone as powerful as the Duke to realize he cared about anything, even Belle, whom the Duke seemed to like very much, would have disastrous results. "Is our business concluded, dearie?"

The Duke nodded and Rumplestiltskin simply vanished in a cloud of purple smoke. He arrived back at the Dark Castle and walked gingerly over to the chair he had near the fireplace. Not that he every really got cold, but the sensation was nonetheless pleasant. He collapsed, his hand trembling and he clutched them together in his lap. He should go to the summer house.

He should go and be sure that Gaston's father's trust was not misplaced. He sighed and shook his head. No. He couldn't do that. For one thing, Belle would be angry that he was spying on her like a protective older brother and she would also accuse him of not trusting that she would do the right thing. Then again, if Gaston got it in to his mind that he was going to have Belle whether she liked it or not, there would be nothing she could do to stop him. The thought sent a chill down his spine. Granted, he had never gotten any impressions from the boy that he was violent in a sexual way, but was he really willing to take that chance?

With Gaston appointed to King George's guard, should he get past the dragon, Rumplestiltskin had effectively postponed the wedding for at least two years. It would allow Belle a chance to grow up some, and by the time they married, she would be 16 and quite old enough to take care of herself. And while that thought did not bring him much comfort, it at least allowed him to spend more time with her. All in all, he was thoroughly grateful that Lord Avonlea had called. He knew the Ogres were reforming their armies, which was something of a miracle on its own, and he also knew that with the wave of a hand he could rid the entire realm of Ogres. That kind of magic, however, was sure to come with a hefty price. One, he was quite certain, that would destroy him.

Whether the price was finding out Ogre saliva cured any ailment, or whether it ran to the extreme and stripped Belle away from him, he had no desire to find out. He would push the armies back to the far side of the North Mountains. It had not taken them long after the first wave of Ogre wars, to regroup and head this way again, but he remembered from when he was a man that the Ogres had spent two winters upon the mountain and many of them had died along the way. He was unsure if it was simply sheer stupidity given that they each had a brain the size of a pea, or if they had managed to step into a crevasse. But again, that would fall under stupidity as well. Whatever the case, he had managed to buy Belle a couple of years before her father married her off to that boar.

He went to his spinning wheel, in need of the distraction, in need of something to take his mind off of Belle ...alone ...in a house. ...with Gaston. But she wasn't alone, was she? Avonlea had said two of their friends had gone with them. He knew he should find relief in that knowledge, but he didn't, or he couldn't, perhaps both. He glared at his spinning wheel as if it had betrayed him. This was the one thing he did that brought him peace, and today, it wasn't helping at all. He was consumed with thoughts of Belle and Gaston.

He stood and paced through his Great Room for several minutes before he finally gave up. He had to be sure she was safe. It was ingrained in his psyche. She was his ...he paused. She was his ...he honestly didn't know. They were beyond being friends at this point, he was not her father (thank the gods), he was not her brother, or uncle or a family friend ...he pondered for a moments as he searched out her aura so he could flash in close to house, but not inside it. That was just it, she wasn't his anything. She was simply his.


	14. The Secret Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING – While the entire story is not M rated yet (obviously), this part most definitely is. This did not turn out the way I planned. This story is rated M because ...later it's going to get steamy. ;)

The four friends were sitting comfortably around a glowing fire that Gaston had started upon their arrival. As it had been several hours, the sitting room they occupied was quite toasty. He had also built fires in two of the rooms on the second floor. One for the girls, which had an outer sitting room meant for reading and a bedroom just beyond with a door that locked. Very much like a one room flat. Off the bedroom was a bathing area with an enormous copper tub and a chamber pot that Belle had been assured she did not have to empty in the morning.

The boys needs, on the other hand, were fairly simple. They occupied a room down the hall, across the landing of the stairs. The door was open and Belle could see two sleeping blankets laid out near the fire. When she had asked why they didn't sleep in the bed, Clem had laughed, stating that he wouldn't want Gaston to molest him in his sleep.

Belle and Lydia had laughed themselves sick until Gaston glowered at all of them. They had collected a deck of cards and were deeply into a game of All Fours. Lydia was winning ...as she had the last four times they'd played. Gaston threw his cards down, got up from the floor and offered Belle a hand. "Would you like a tour?"

She was torn. While she didn't particularly care for All Fours, it also felt like there would be safety in numbers. He did not push or ask again, but simply stood in silence, waiting for her to give him an answer. It was this patience that convinced her to take his hand and agree to take a walk.

Clem collected the cards and began to shuffle them as Belle and Gaston left the room. "You kids behave yourselves now."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Right. That'll happen."

Her fiance glanced at the doorway to be sure the others were gone and out of earshot, and then looked over at Lydia. He seemed concerned. "Really, sweetie? You can't see it?"

She made a face. "See what?"

Clem sighed heavily. "I thought women were supposed to be more intuitive than men."

"We are. I just wasn't paying attention. What's going on?"

The man sighed, and reached over to grab his girl and pull her into his lap. They, like Belle and Gaston, had been introduced when Lydia was only 13, just over three years ago. Lydia would be turning 16 two days after Belle turned 14. He knew how lucky he was to have this woman in his life. They had always had an easy and comfortable relationship. "You know me, Lyd. I don't like to see women stared at like their sides of beef."

Lydia turned her head so she could look into his face. "Is Gaston watching her like that?"

"Like he wants to eat her for lunch ..." he paused, checked his pocket watch, and added, "Okay, dinner." He ran a hand through recalcitrant blonde hair and tried to organize his thoughts. "She is very new to this whole 'engaged to be married' thing. I remember how nervous you were when you met me, and I was only three years older than you. Gaston and Belle ...what are they, six years apart? I would bet money that he will try to push her farther than he should. You know how he is, Lyd. He thinks he's the most amazing man in the realm."

Lydia stifled a laugh. "Yes he does have a rather high opinion of himself. Should we go look for them?" She knew Clemson. If he was concerned, then there was a good reason for it.

He thought about it carefully and finally nodded. "Yeah, let's get them both back into the group atmosphere we had earlier. Are you keeping tabs on how much Whiskey he's been throwing back?"

Lydia looked guilty. "No. I forgot."

"Well, that's probably a good thing. If he was drinking a lot, we would have noticed," Clem said, standing up and drawing her to her feet. He placed a soft kiss on her nose. "I am grateful each and every day that I have you."

Lydia stroked his cheek gently. 'No more that I am."

Clem took her hand and they walked out of the nice, warm sitting room to begin their search. Clem had a bad feeling. He just hoped they would find them in time.

#

Belle and Gaston walked casually down the hallway in a separate part of the mansion. He had grinned mischievously, showing her the servants stairwell and explaining that he many times came down to the kitchen to steal something sweet, and that he never failed to get caught by the servant who lived there. He started to add that the woman was just as sweet as anything the kitchen had to offer, but schooled his tongue. He was trying really hard not to overwhelm Belle. She had made it very clear that his kisses were not welcome and he had been pissed all to hell for several days until he had given it some thought. He had tried to kiss her the very first time they had gone anywhere together alone. Of course she was disturbed, she probably thought him a pervert. Why his father felt it necessary to pair him with a girl so young was beyond him, but he would do what he was asked because that was his nature. It didn't mean that he couldn't try to enjoy it.

He pulled Belle along a narrow rise of stairs that led to a solid wall of books. She gasped, and he grinned, pulling one of the books out and pushing the heavy door out of the way. When he turned back around, expecting her to be delighted at the secret passage, he found her trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. "Belle?"

She shook her head, as if she'd been in a trance. "Sorry. What?"

"Isn't this cool?"

Belle looked at the door quizzically and finally nodded. What else was she to do? He was clearly proud of the fact that he knew the passage was there, and while it held absolutely no fascination for her, Bob had told her that relationships were a series of compromises. If each person clung to their own personal desires and needs, without allowing the other some eccentricities, the relationship would not last.

She remembered the sadness in his voice when he'd admitted that he had learned this after his wife had left him. Well, not so much sadness as disappointment in himself. For whatever reason, he seemed to think that if he had simply been willing to do what she asked of him, even if those things were a death sentence, she might have stayed to raise Baelfire. He was adamant that a child needed a mother. He had tried to be both to his young son, but there were things a feminine touch could give the boy that he simply could not.

Belle followed Gaston into the passageway and he lit torches along the walls, pulling the door closed and motioning her to walk ahead of him. She felt uneasy. It had been months ...nearly a year actually, since she had felt this vulnerable. Why were they walking in a dark, dank passageway?

His voice echoed off the walls. "When I was younger, this is where me and my friends would come to be with our girls."

Belle swallowed nervously. "Really? That's ...uhm ...nice, I guess."

"Let me show you," he said gruffly and turned her around, pulling her against his chest. He made no other move but to tuck her head under his chin and stand there holding her. "See? Isn't this nice?"

She tried to nod, but couldn't because she lacked the room. It was, actually, very nice. Especially here, in the dark, where she could imagine that it was Bob and not Gaston who was combing his fingers through her hair. Belle had no idea how she was supposed to act. Was this supposed to be exciting? Comforting? Was it supposed to make her want to be closer to him, because if that was the case, it simply wasn't happening. She got her hands in between them and pushed against his chest.

He took a step back and sighed. Alcohol made his tongue looser than it would normally have been. "Look, Belle. I get that you don't feel anything for me. I really do, but you're going to have to learn to tolerate it. And while I had hoped that time would allow for more than just a marriage of convenience, I can see that there is nothing I can do. Damn, most women would think me a pretty good catch."

"I don't mean to insult you Gaston, honestly. Whatever is supposed to be there for two people who are going to be married ...it just isn't there." Belle stopped when she saw the anger begin to fill his face.

He stepped back into her personal space and said, "Well, fucking get used to it," before he crushed his mouth down on hers, pressing with his tongue until she had no choice but to open to him lest he bite her. Belle closed her eyes. She could feel the tears itching behind her eyelids as he began to run his hands over her body.

He pulled back long enough to take a breath, and then kissed her again, more forcefully, with anger building inside him. Belle didn't know where this was going, but she knew it was no where good.

When he pulled her dress up and ran his fingers up her stomach to her breast, she stifled a sob. She didn't want this. Not with him ...not ever. She felt so violated and ashamed that she couldn't function except to try to remain on her feet. Gaston was making soft, appreciative noises in the back of his throat as his fingers dug into her sensitive flesh. There was no pleasure involved. He was clearly not going to back off this time and she had no idea how to make him stop. She squirmed against him, trying to push against his chest, but he was bigger and stronger, and in the end, she had no way to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted. He walked her backwards until her back came into contact with the passage wall and then pressed his knee against her most sensitive part, trying to get her to open her legs wider.

Belle was nauseous, horrified, frightened and yet she somehow knew that the reason he had brought her here was because if she began to scream, no one would hear her. She struggled again, pushing against his chest, trying to turn her head away from his demanding lips but it wasn't doing her any good. He was enormous compared to her. She didn't have a chance in hell of stopping this. "Please, Gaston. Stop!"

He didn't seem to hear her. One of his hands had burrowed under all of her underclothing and attached to her naked breast. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

Belle didn't know what happened. One moment he was crushing her against the wall, and the next his weight was lifted as if he were a straw doll and he was tossed a good five feet, striking the other wall with a sickening thump.

She stared into the darkness, trying to figure out who was there, but she couldn't see. She heard several grunts, whispered words, a moan and then one of the two of them straightened and turned toward her. She stiffened, fear coursed through her, and her heart was pounding in her ears.

The figure came closer and reached out for her. She flinched away. "Belle? Sweetheart? It's me. It's Bob."

Belle began to weep with relief. She had no idea how he'd gotten here or how he'd know she was here, but she didn't care. He approached carefully, unsure if he would be welcome until Belle threw herself into his arms, sobbing. He did nothing else but hold her against him, letting her weep, knowing that it would cleanse her soul of what had happened here. He wanted desperately to ask her how far that bastard had managed to get, but now was not the time. Perhaps later, when she was home and safely tucked away in her own bed.

He reached down slowly and tilted her chin up so he would know she was listening. "Belle?"

She buried her face in his chest. "Is he dead?"

"Do you want him dead?" he asked, and Belle could tell that he was not joking.

It took her several minutes to form an answer that wasn't 'Yes, please kill him.' At that moment, in that dank passageway, devoid of dignity, she would happily have watched him die, but she knew when the shock wore off, she would regret any hasty actions she made now. "No, but I don't want to be here anymore."

"I'm going to take you home, okay?" Bob's voice was deeper than usual, his accent thicker.

All Belle could do was nod. She didn't care how she got there, she just wanted to go home.

She felt a gust of wind, harsh and scratchy, as if she was caught in a sandstorm. She kept her eyes closed tight, but could still see purple behind her eyelids. He was using magic ...on both of them. On any other day, under any other circumstance, she might have refused, but at the moment, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Just as she was beginning to think her skin would start flaking off, the sensation ceased and she opened her eyes. She was in her own room. Her book with the blue silk ribbon lay on her reading table, her fireplace was out. Bob flicked a hand in the general direction of the hearth, and it erupted in flames as he lay her gently in bed.

"Kick off your shoes, sweetheart. And if you can get the dress part of all your clothing off, I think you can probably sleep in the rest of it. I'm afraid the dress is probably ruined. I'm sorry."

Belle pulled her tattered dress over her head and threw it toward the fire. "It doesn't matter. I don't want it or ...or ..." she motioned at her various petticoats and underthings.

Bob nodded. "Where is your nightgown?"

Belle was staring straight ahead, fear etched on every line of her face. Bob cleared his throat, trying not to startle her. "Sweetheart?"

"What?" She snapped at him and then realize who was with her and apologized.

He waved it off. "I think you're entitled to a few blow ups right now. Where is your nightgown. I'll retrieve it if you want to change."

Belle sighed. "In my bag...which is back at the ...at ...at his house."

"It's fine. Use this one." He pulled his hand out from behind his back and offered her another gown. It was blue silk, like the ribbon in her book. She didn't even have the energy to ask where it came from. She took it gratefully and slipped into her bathing room. She turned before she closed the door. "Will you stay? Please?"

He nodded. "I'm not going anywhere, Belle. I promise."

Rumplestiltskin took up post just outside the bathing room door and stood there smoldering. What he had been able to do to that boy had not been nearly enough. In fact, the only reason he was alive was because Belle wished it to be so. He needed her to hurry up so he could tuck her safely in bed or he was going to flash out of here, turn that sorry bastard into a pile of dirt, and flash back. The door opened and he didn't waste any time. He swept Belle into his arms and deposited her in bed. She reached out and grasped his hand, holding on for dear life. It was a testament to how upset she was that she didn't complain about his cloak and hood.

"Am I going to get in trouble?" Belle's voice was soft and suddenly she sounded like the 13 year-old (almost 14) that she was.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. You haven't done anything wrong." Even if that ridiculous excuse for a knight said anything about the incident, he knew he could take care of it. It was comforting to know that his magic could be used not only to hurt and intimidate, but also to give help and aid to the woman he loved.


	15. Unintended Emotions

He sat by her side, letting her hold on to his hand; reminding her she was safe and hoping against hope she would be able to sleep. He had once promised her he would never let nightmares haunt her dreams and yet now, he was powerless to stop them. She slept ...for maybe an hour before she started awake; her beautiful eyes, so often filled with happiness and laughter were brimming with tears she did not shed. They would talk quietly about nonsense for a while and his voice, coupled with his fingers gently stroking her hair, would lull her back to a fitful sleep. This went on for hours until he sensed that she had slipped into a much deeper state of sleep and sighed, grateful.

He didn't move from her side. He was held there by emotions he should not have. Things he wasn't supposed to feel. Yes, he wanted to care for and protect her, but there were other feelings mixed in as well. Some of them had nothing to do with protection and everything to do with the young woman who lay sleeping next to him. He didn't particularly want to analyze them, but he refused to move, lest he wake her. He had two choices; two sets of conflicting emotions to occupy his mind while she slept. He could analyze the emotions he was currently feeling for Belle, or he could dwell on the many painful things he would like to do to Gaston. Neither was paricularly productive, but the former would probably prevent him from seeking the boy out and peeling his skin off layer by layer. Not that the boy didn't deserve it. He was just lucky that at the moment, Rumplestiltskin was not inclined to leave Belle. If she woke again, he wanted to be there to alleviate her fears and besides, the boy would be leaving for King Georges' court the next day. Probably just as well that he got as far away from Belle as he could. If he tried to see her; tried to apologize; Rumplestiltskin was going to kill him, and there would be nothing anyone, not even Belle, could do to stop it.

A growl of seething rage worked it's way through his chest. He stopped himself. He had to quit thinking about it. He was just getting angrier and everyone in the realm knew that an angry Dark One was a dangerous and volatile thing. Given that, he tentatively poked at the other emotions. Once, a very, very long time ago, he had been capable of these these kinds of feelings and desires, but he had thought them long gone. Disdain, anger, even pity to some extent; they were easy. Tenderness, warmth, affection, protectiveness ...love, these were not nearly as common or, in this case, appropriate. He had deluded himself into believing his feelings toward Belle were the same as they had been when she was a child. He had shrouded himself in the idea that she was eight years-old, and that he would always feel the same way about her. He had convinced himself that he could never see her as a woman. Would never see beyond the child. Could not possibly feel the kinds of emotions reserved for grown adults.

He had been wrong.

She wasn't eight anymore. Of course, he had said those words before, many times, but sitting here, looking at her, he was finally realizing that they were true. He stood, not moving the bed with the shift of his weight, and walked to the fireplace, staring into the flames. He could not let her marry that bastard. Not only was he completely unworthy of someone like Belle, he had also shown an extremely limited level of patience. Rumplestiltskin had no doubt, given the times they lived in, that Gaston would say nothing of what had transpired this night. He also knew that should Belle say anything, she would be branded a whore. It was an unfair and unjust system, but that was how it worked. Likely, the engagement would be postponed until Gaston's service with the king was finished, but it would never be canceled altogether. He had believed, when he'd made the deal with Lord Avonlea, that he was buying Belle enough time to become comfortable with the idea of being married to a man she didn't particularly like and certainly didn't love. Now he realized that all he had done was buy himself a couple of years to figure out how to remove her from this situation. If he had to drag her off to the Dark Castle and hold her there, that is what he would do.

He sighed and sat down in her chair, taking the ribbon from her book and pulling it through his fingers as he became lost in thought. Her birthday was fast approaching, and he knew exactly what she wanted. He couldn't give her that; it wasn't that he didn't want to ...well, okay, that was part of it, but mostly he felt as if he couldn't. To remove the cloak, for her to realize that her childhood friend and protector had been a creature fit only for nightmares would crush him. The look of distaste on her face would destroy him. He had recovered from losing someone he loved once; he knew he couldn't do it again.

And yet, when she had looked upon him back at Lord Avonlea's castle he had not seen disgust on her face. She had seemed curious, even fascinated, but not scared or sickened. He shook his head. No. As much as he wanted to believe that Belle would welcome him, even as the Dark One, he was afraid to take the chance. Perhaps, though, there was something he could give her. Not his full-on identity, but at least enough to curb her questions ...for now. Once again, he felt himself buying time. She had said it was inevitable; the cloak would come off and he knew she was right, but it didn't have to be now.

"Bob!?" She bolted up into a sitting position, searching the room with her eyes. He got up immediately and went to her side. She visibly relaxed when she saw that he was still there. He sat carefully beside her.

He reached out and touched her cheek. "I'm here. I told you I wouldn't leave, and I don't break my promises ...not anymore."

His voice was so sad that Belle couldn't help herself. She moved forward slightly and wrapped her arms around him, cloak and all. He found it horribly ironic that in this moment, after what had probably been the scariest day of her life, she was comforting him. "Whatever you did back then, Bob, it's the past. No one can change the past." She paused. "Not even you."

"That's not my name." The words were out before he could stop them. Perhaps it was holding her in his arms, feeling her warmth against his body; perhaps it was because she forgave him when he couldn't begin to forgive himself. Perhaps he simply wanted her to know ...at least a version of the truth. She didn't move; didn't speak. She just kept hold of him. Not pressuring him to finish that thought. Content to know that even if he couldn't, he wanted to tell her. His voice was as soft as she'd ever heard him get. "Rum. My name is Rum."

Belle sat back a little, trying to look into his face and finding it still shrouded in shadow. She smiled; an honest, genuine smile that went a long way to easing the fear in Rumplestiltskin's heart. "Like the drink?" He nodded and she actually laughed. "We can stick with Bob if you prefer."

His own laughter rumbled through his chest and he mimicked what she had said to him many years before. "What's wrong with Rum? I like it."

She grinned. "Then Rum it shall be," she said. "Why Rum? Is it short for something?"

His face became serious. "My mother drank a lot."

Belle considered him for maybe five seconds before she smacked his arm. "You are impossible," she said, burying her face in his chest again. "Why do I put up with you?"

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I ask myself that same question every, single day."

They had been sitting like that for so long that what began as a hug, offering comfort and support, had become an embrace that promised so much more. Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat and pulled away; standing up and walking back toward the fire.

He had rescued her tonight and she was grateful. Yes, their friendship had grown beyond being simply a man and the child he protected, but this was neither the time nor the place for it to become anything more. Not when she was traumatized ...he paused, not when she was only 13. In his heart, he knew that she was old enough by societies standards to be serious about a man, hence the fact that she had been betrothed to begin with, but his mind was another matter altogether. His mind still saw a frightened, lonely child laying in the hay of a stable, clutching a tattered doll. He knew it was a defense mechanism. He didn't want to see her any other way. It was a road that would lead him to pain and heartache because she was right, eventually the cloak would come off and she would know that he was the Dark One. That dangerous, evil, magical being who took so much and gave so little. He didn't want that day to come. He didn't want his Belle to look upon him with horror. He couldn't bear it.

She sighed heavily, but allowed him to move away from her. "Will there ever be a day when you will see me as a woman?" When he didn't immediately answer she added, "Rum?"

He kept his back to her, staring into the fire. "It's much too late for that, Belle."

"And is it such a bad thing?" she asked.

At this, he turned. "For now? Yes. Yes, it's a bad thing." His voice was rather harsher than he'd intended.

Belle flinched. "I see. Perhaps you should just come back when you feel that I'm old enough to deserve your favor."

He shook his head and walked back to the side of her bed. "What would you do, Belle? Present to your father the old man you have chosen to be with against his wishes as opposed to the strapping lad he procured on your behalf?"

Her face went flat; devoid of any emotion whatsoever. "That strapping lad tried to rape me tonight, Rum. Is that who you'd have me spend my life with?"

Rumplestiltskin looked down upon her. "Understand this, Belle. You will not be marrying that boy. I won't allow it. If I have to kidnap you and take you far, far away, that is what I will do, but that does not change the fact that you are still very young." She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. "No, Belle, listen to me. You are just barely a teenager. You have so much life ahead of you. It wouldn't be fair to chain you to an old man. Someone, I might add, you've never even seen before. I would ask you to give it some time. A few more years. If you still feel the same then I promise you, we will have this conversation again. Will you do that for me?"

"Gaston and I will still be engaged, you know. I cannot tell my father what he did, and I know he won't say anything about it." She sounded defeated, resigned to a fate she could not change.

"Did you not hear what I said?" He was irritated. Wasn't she listening at all?

She shrugged. "I heard you. Would you really take me away from my family and friends to prevent me from having to marry Gaston?"

He paused, thoughtful, and nodded slowly. "I would. It would be a last resort, but yes, I would take you away from here if I had to."

She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back down to sit beside her. "I believe you," she said, smiling. "And I suppose, as long as that promise remains in effect, I can wait a few more years to tell you that I love you."


	16. Someone Else

Belle was exhausted when she opened her eyes the next morning. She felt like she hadn't slept at all. Rum was sitting in her chair by the fire. She wondered if he had been sitting there all night, and then discarded the thought. Of course he'd been sitting there all night. He had said he would not leave, and he hadn't. It made her heart swell just to look upon him. Although she could not see his face, she knew instinctively that he was not asleep. She wondered if he ever slept. During the daytime, perhaps. She was about the throw back the covers and get up when it occurred to her that this was about the time her maids would come to help her prepare for the day. She glanced nervously at the door, afraid that one of them would come in and see him sitting there. She was going to have to deal with enough questions about why she'd come home and how she'd gotten here without also having to explain the strange man in her room.

"They won't," he said, startling her. He had not turned around. She had no idea how he did that. Could he read minds? And if he could not, how did he know she was both awake and worried about a possible intrusion? Surely, if he had special, psychic abilities, he would have told her about them before now, then again, she'd never asked him and the subject hadn't really come up. Maybe another time. She shifted and flinched. She was sore, both from being manhandled by Gaston and thrown up against a wall. She didn't know the aftereffects of magic so she had no idea if that was a contributing factor.

"How do you know? What's to prevent them from coming in at any moment to help me dress?" She said it flippantly, trying to keep her voice level and pleasant. She knew that he had work to do. He couldn't just hang about forever. That would be nice, certainly, but she wasn't sure how to explain it to her father. He finally turned to look at her.

His voice was filled with lackluster humor. He too was trying to keep the mood light, given the events of the night before. "Hmm ...well, for one, they don't know you're here." He paused. "And …" he was full-on mischievous now. "I locked the door." Belle threw a pillow at him and he put a hand over his heart. "My lady, what have I done to deserve such animosity?"

Belle laughed, and it was genuine. "Nothing whatever, sir. You appeared only a target to my sight."

He was so relieved to hear her joking that his laughter rang out in the small room and Belle looked around in alarm. "Be at ease, Belle. It would not do for one of your nosy maids to hear us talking in the wee hours of the morning, now would it?"

"You've soundproofed the room?" He acknowledged the question with a nod and Belle couldn't find a reason to be angry. It was simple logic although she'd never really given it much thought. He'd been coming here for over five years. It stood to reason that in all that time, someone would have walked past and heard them talking even though they kept their voices low.

He got up, put her book back on the table and walked toward her. "How are you feeling?" His voice had lost the edge of mirth he'd had a moment before. He was serious, and expected a serious answer.

The lady in her; the years of breeding and lessons, the woman who was the mistress of Northlands Castle, immediately wanted to say she was fine. But this was Bo ...she stopped and smirked, Rum, and they did not lie to one another. "A little frightened, I guess. Tired. Sore." She rubbed her left arm and he was next to her in half a second to examine it. There were five angry bruises in the shape of fingers wrapping around her upper bicep. She didn't have to see his face to know he had steam coming out the top of his head. She could feel his rage; it was tangible. "It's fine, Rum."

He looked at her, incredulous. "No Belle, it is not fine." He motioned at the bruises. "There is nothing fine about this."

Belle shivered in the face of all that anger and Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, trying to control himself, trying not to yell anymore. He released her and stepped back several paces. He couldn't look at the bruises or he was very likely to do something drastic. He stood there, seething with rage, until Belle got out of bed and wrapped her arms around his waist, pillowing her head on his chest. "You're right. It's not fine. Do you think he'll come here today? Or say something to my father?" She sighed. "This is a nightmare."

Rumplestiltskin pulled her close. "He won't," he said in to her hair. "He should be gone by now."

She didn't pull away, but he felt her body tense. "Gone where, Rum?"

He froze. He had almost said that he'd made a deal with Gaston's father that would have him in the service of King George and away from Avonlea for at least two if not several, years. Belle was an incredibly bright woman. She would have immediately put it together and known who he was, as she had seen him talking to the Duke only yesterday. He was really going to have to be more careful. He changed tack. "I didn't kill him, Belle. I said I wouldn't."

To his dismay, she was still annoyingly persistent. "Then where would he have gone?"

He was saved by a knock on the door. "Belle? Are you in there?" It was her father.

He stepped out of her embrace and bowed deeply. "That is my cue. I'll be back later, okay?"

She nodded and watched as he disappeared in a puff of smoke. It felt very much like part of her soul had gone with him. There was a hole in her heart when he wasn't there, an emptiness that only he could fill.

"Belle?"

"Yes, Papa. I'm here. I'll be out soon." She didn't want to leave her room, but she had little choice. As the mistress of this castle, she was expected to put unpleasantness behind her and move forward, and sadly, that is all this would seem like to the people she knew. The Lords and Ladies who frequented the castle did not speak of such things as rape or abuse; it was taboo, a subject best left alone. Ladies were simply meant to forget it and move on. Belle straightened. She could move on. She had to move on. She would never allow Gaston to know how badly he had hurt and frightened her, but she could not, would not, forget ...ever.

"There is a young man out here to see you." There was a question in his voice so she knew immediately it was not Gaston. "He says he knows you and that his name is Clemson. Shall I send someone in to help you dress?"

Belle just didn't feel like she could deal with maids today. "No. Clem is just a friend, Papa. Did he not bring Lydia with him?"

She could hear the relief in her father's voice. "Is that his wife?"

"Close enough," Belle said, smiling. She heard her fathers footsteps retreating and went in to her bathing room to wash up and put on a comfortable dress. With no one to impress, wearing a gown would be a waste of time. On a more practical note, her casual dresses had short sleeves that would effectively cover the bruises on her arms. She had no desire to try to explain them.

Half an hour later she figured she was presentable enough and left her chambers. She found Clem sitting in the kitchen with the cook who was berating him for being too thin and trying to get him to eat. The relief on his face was clear when Belle walked in. "You've come to rescue me. Your cook would have me weigh 900lbs for my wedding."

The cook made an irritated noise in the back of her throat as the two of them left the kitchen and walked outside into the garden. Belle took in a deep breath of fresh air. Clem had been nice enough up to now, but she had no idea what Gaston would have said about her and she assumed that Clemson would believe whatever his best friend told him.

They walked for perhaps 10 minutes before he caught her by the elbow and turned her so she would look at him. His entire face was filled with concern. "What happened last night, Belle? Lydia and I went to find the both of you shortly after you left the sitting room. It took forever. We finally found Gaston in the secret passage. He looked like someone had beaten him with a club and his father has suddenly decided he is to offer his services to King George. Today."

"King George? Why?" Belle avoided the subject of his beating completely. It did not become either her place or position to feel overjoyed that Rum had beat Gaston to a pulp.

Clemson shook his head. "Something about King Midas, Prince James and a dragon. That is literally all his father would tell me, aside from the fact that no matter what was wrong with him he was going to have to climb on a horse and begin his journey before midday."

Belle chanced a glance at the sun. It was past midday. Rum had been right, Gaston should be gone. "Did he go?"

"Yes." Clem nodded. "I think, had he refused, his father would have tied him to his steed and sent him anyway. He was ...adamant and that is not like him. He seemed not to care what had happened to his son, only that Gaston be on his way. He was in a great deal of pain when he left. The ride is not going to help matters."

"Good," Belle snapped at him, and then sighed. It wasn't Clem's fault. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you." She turned to walk away, but Clem grabbed her arm. Belle hissed in pain and he released her immediately.

Clemson was not a dense man. In fact, he prided himself on being both intelligent and open-minded. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He reached out ...slowly, and lifted the edge of Belle's sleeve. The bruises told him everything he needed to know. His stomach dropped into his shoes and he felt nauseous. He knew Gaston had a volatile temper, but he had never believed his ...friend? could hurt anyone. Certainly not a young woman who was supposed to be important to him. He felt shame, guilt, and pain. He should have hurried; he should have known Gaston would take her to the secret passage. They always took their girlfriends down there when they were younger, but Clem had grown out of that stage. He had become an adult who did not have to lure women to a place where they were supposed to cling to him in fear. Gaston clearly had not. Clemson looked at Belle's face for a long time before he finally shook his head. "I'm sorry."

She looked flabbergasted. "Why? You haven't done anything."

"I should have known he'd take you down there. Goddammit, Belle, I should have known!. I might have been able to get to you in time." Clem's entire face was red; he looked almost as murderous as Rum had. Well, what she believed Rum had looked like. He was obviously equal parts furious and saddened by what his friend had done. "May I ask you ..." he paused.

"What?" Belle was beginning to feel more comfortable in his presence. Lydia was a very lucky woman to have Clemson.

"Did he ...?" He stopped and tried again. "What I mean is was the rescue so late that he had already …?" He dropped his head, unable to finish the question.

Belle grabbed his hand and he looked up, meeting her eyes. "No, Clem. It didn't get that far."

He sighed with obvious relief. "I am by no means happy about what he did, and I assure you that he and I will be having a long talk when he returns, but I am glad that he didn't ...ruin you. Not that I believe you would have been ...well, just crap."

"I understand," Belle said.

Clemson looked relieved. "One more question? I'll leave you alone then, promise."

"What?"

He took a deep breath, and held her eyes with his so he could gauge her reaction. "Who beat him?"

Belle was rendered speechless. She had no idea what to tell him. The passage was isolated and had only one door. She remembered that at the time she hadn't known who was helping her, nor had she known that Rum had physically hurt him, so she opted for a semi-truth. "I don't know. One minute he had me pinned against the wall …I remember I told him to stop and that he was hurting me and then ...I just don't know. He was flying through the air and hit the opposite wall hard. I couldn't see. It was too dark."

Clemson nodded. "Well, whatever or whomever it was, they saved you and I am exceptionally grateful. It could have gotten far worse."

"I can't argue with that," Belle said. "But it didn't. The bruises will heal, I will heal. I'm going to be okay. I'm not alone."

He narrowed his eyes. "There's someone else, isn't there?" Belle was taken by surprise at his insight and unable to school her expression fast enough. To his credit, Clemson said nothing. He simply nodded; a slight smile crossing his features. "I hope he treats you well, Belle. I know what it's like to have someone who loves me, someone who would never hurt me, and I know how lucky I am." He took her hand and kissed it gently. "You are a kind, loving, wonderful person. You deserve that in return."

She didn't know how to respond to that. Certainly she agreed with him, but she couldn't see in to the future. Rum had said he would not allow her to marry Gaston, regardless of their being betrothed, and she knew he meant it. What that meant about them, however, about a possible future together ...three years was a long time. She didn't believe for a moment she would ever stop loving him no matter what he looked like underneath that hood, but she was afraid ...afraid that her youth would make him push her away and in doing so, destroy them both.


	17. A Birthday Wish

Rumplestiltskin had not slept ...at all ...in days. Not because it was necessarily his choice, but because Belle's birthday was coming closer. Today, in fact, it was here. He had no idea what he was going to do. She had been talking about 'her gift' for two weeks. He sighed and turned the spinning wheel, watching as the straw in his hands magically turned to gold and pooled at his feet. Why couldn't his Belle be a normal female? He could do jewelry. He looked at the several buckets of gold he'd made just today and wondered if he could just make a necklace or something. Of course, he could answer his own question. No. She didn't want something material. She wanted him. Didn't she know she already had him?

He stopped spinning and reached down to scoop some of the gold into his hand. As he stood and walked toward his chair near the fire he manipulated and molded the gold using small bursts of magic until he opened his palm to find a thin, golden ring. Etched along the inside, so small that it would be impossible to see unless you knew it was there was a single word.

Gaelltanas.

My Promise. My Vow.

It covered every, single year that he had known Belle. From the day he'd seen her sleeping in the stable, her cheeks covered in tears and promised he would watch over her, to the day he'd realized he had feelings that were far beyond anything he had ever expected. It wasn't much, he knew, but it was something that would serve several purposes. His dreams of late had been plagued with fear; a realization that had he not gone to see the Duke that day, he would never have known Belle was away, would never had found her in time. This ring, infused with his magic, so long as she wore it, would allow him to find her no matter where she was. It was a symbol of his original promise, and a vow that he would never let anything like that happen again. He made a thin gold chain as well, knowing that her father would have a stroke should she start wearing what was, quite literally, a promise ring, on her finger.

He knew she would be delighted at the gift, but not completely satisfied. She wanted him to remove his cloak. To uncover his face and let her see him. He could not. He had pondered this for many days and finally come up with a compromise. He did not want to disappoint his Belle on her birthday, and while he did not know if this would be acceptable, it was all he could offer right now.

He tried not to think about it. She was much too intelligent for her own good, and he was not at all sure she wouldn't figure out his identity regardless. Unfortunately, this was the only plan he had.

Rumplestiltskin flashed out of his castle and into Belle's room. He had been looking at the floor, and when his eyes came up, he quickly averted them. He really should find another place to appear.

Belle sat on her bed. A white, silk nightgown hugged her body and she was running a brush through wet hair. Every time she hit a snag, she would grunt in pain, but she didn't stop. He walked up behind her and said her name softly. This time, she did not start, she did not turn, she was utterly and completely unafraid. He sat down and reached out, taking the brush from her hand. She made a sound of impatience, but when he moved on to the bed, his back to the headboard, she turned, looking at him quizzically. "Sit here," he said, indicating that she should sit between his legs. "Let me brush it for you."

She didn't question or pause for a moment. She moved so that she sat against him, her back resting against his chest. Slowly, and with great care, he delicately worked out the tangles. They were like that for perhaps 10 minutes before he stopped, returning the brush to her hand. "There now. Tangle free."

Her voice was breathy when she spoke. "Thank you."

As he made no indication that he wanted to move, she relaxed, pillowing her head on his shoulder while he continued to stroke his fingers through her hair. "Happy Birthday, my Belle," he said quietly.

She smiled. She had been afraid that he would ignore her birthday altogether, choosing instead to remain in the anonymity that he was so fond of. "Thank you, again," she said with humor. She felt something cool touch her skin and looked down. He was holding a small ring looped through a fine, gold chain. The ring had intricate carvings engraved on it.

He pressed it into her hand without saying anything and she gasped. He was giving her a ring? She turned slightly so he could see the look on her face. Questioning, curious, joyful and yet, terrified of what that might mean. She held it up to the light. It was not a carving she had seen, but a word. A single word. "What does it mean?"

"Promise," he said, smiling. He sounded timid, afraid, as if she might reject it, but instead her smile was radiant.

Belle melted. How very appropriate; it was a symbol of their relationship, a single word that managed to convey everything they felt. "It's beautiful, thank you, Rum." She handed it to him so he could put it around her neck. She understood the need for a chain, although given a choice she would happily wear it on her finger, but it was not time for that yet. This ring, this sentiment, was as close as he had ever come to admitting that he loved her; that he meant to not only keep her away from Gaston, but to have her for himself. It was a step in the right direction; one she was delighted to take.

Belle had no doubt at all that the man behind her was who she wanted. Now, and always. His reservations about her age and what her reactions might be once she saw him with no barriers between them were fading away each and every year. All she could do was continue to love him; always remind him that she would never want anyone else. That no matter what might happen in the years to come, it was him she loved; and that would never change.

She didn't know how it happened. One moment she was sitting there against his body, pulling her hair out of his way so he could fasten the delicate necklace and the next she had turned, leaned forward under his ever present hood, and pressed her lips to his.

It was not at all like the demanding kisses she had shared with Gaston. In fact, at first, he was so stunned he didn't do anything. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his lips softened, became pliant, and against every misgiving he had about them having any sort of romantic involvement, he was kissing her back. It started gently, lips touching, tasting; never demanding. His hands came to her waist to hold her there and she sighed into his mouth. That simple gesture lit a fire inside of him and his fingers dug into her as if he did not trust his hands to remain where they were. It was a gentle dance. A give and take. A moment filled with soft sighs and quiet words whispered to one another. She teased his bottom lip with her tongue, and he pulled her closer that he could trail his lips down her face from her temple to her jaw. 'This' Belle thought as her body tingled and twitched with pent up emotion, 'this is what it is supposed to be like.' Indeed, when she closed her eyes, there were lights dancing in her vision.

His hands finally gave up their attempts to be still and roamed up her back to bury in her hair. Belle made an appreciative sound in her throat and it was this, more than anything else, that caused him to draw away from her. He would not be bedding a 14 year-old maiden ...well, yes, he would be if he didn't get up and move away from her, but generally, he was not going to do it. He moved out from under her and got up. Belle flushed, embarrassed and he grasped her chin, pulling her face up to look at him. "Do not feel ashamed of what just happened, my Belle. I pull away only because I do not wish to go beyond what I can control." When she did not look convinced, he added. "You ...you are mine, will always be mine, but now is not the time to reveal that to the world. It will come ...I promise you it will come."

Belle was clearly not entirely recovered from the kisses. "What's wrong with losing control?"

Rum laughed, and stroked her cheek gently. "Things would happen between us that we could not take back. There are some types of loving, my Belle, that can never be repeated or changed."

Belle understood what he was talking about and she could see in his eyes that it was taking every bit of self-control he had to remain where he was and not simply give in to temptation, everyone else be damned.

It took her nearly a minute to realize what she'd just seen. Under the hood, although his features were still in shadow, his eyes were gleaming brightly. She simply stared. This was her real gift. Beyond the gentle kisses, beyond the ring that hung around her neck, he had also given her as much of himself as he was capable of. He was still unable to remove the cloak altogether, but he was giving her a window into his soul. He was giving her his eyes. She smiled softly. "They're beautiful. I can almost see my reflection in them." Indeed, his eyes were dark; probably black, and seemed to pull her in, drowning her in all the feelings and desires she could see there.

It wasn't everything, but it was more than she'd had before, and still he apologized. "I wish it could be everything, Belle. Gods ..." he stopped, and then tried again.. "I wish ..." again he faltered. Finally he pinned her with an exasperated look. "Could you grow up faster? Please?"

Belle laughed, still staring in to his eyes, indeed, unable to look away lest they be gone when she looked back. "I'm going as fast as I can," she said, understanding that he needed this refuge of humor to move away from the desperate love she could now see clearly in his eyes.

He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. "I know, and I wouldn't trade a day we've spent together for anything. However long it seems to take, it will be worth it." He touched the ring. "I promise."


	18. The Power of the Ring

Belle wandered around in a cloud of cheerful happiness in the weeks following her birthday. She had only to touch the ring that hung around her neck all of the time, and see dark, sparkling eyes in her mind to make her smile. Clemson and Lydia had become frequent guests at Northlands Castle, and as was common between two people who were as close as they, Clem had told Lydia about the 'other man' and what Gaston had done. Lydia had been horrified, promising to do several things to Gaston upon his return that were either exceptionally painful or physically impossible. Belle appreciated the sentiment even though it was completely unnecessary. She knew that it would never be a problem again. For one thing, Rum was in no way going to allow her to be married to Gaston, whatever it took, and for another, she wore his protection wherever she went.

The trio was walking in the orchard, just beyond Belle's rose garden; Clem was, as usual, trying to figure out why, if they lived in the Southlands, the original Duke who had built this castle had felt the need to call it Northlands. Belle laughed and shook her head. "Perhaps he was simply trying to be different."

Clem smirked. "Perhaps. Or ...he was fond of opium and forgot where he lived." They all laughed and continued walking, picking up apples to take back with them when they returned. It was a casual, relaxing time for everyone, and when one of Belle's maids came flying toward them, holding her skirts up as to not trip over the hem, they all stopped. The young woman curtsied and Belle waved it off. She was still uncomfortable with the servants treating her as if she was their better. She had never felt that way, and could not see herself ever treating them as if she were.

The young woman was literally vibrating with excitement. "What is it?" Belle asked. She could not think of one thing that would cause such a disturbance.

"It's Sir Gaston," she girl said, her voice filled with reverence. "The dragon who plagued King Midas' lands has been defeated. King George was so grateful to the knights who helped Prince James that he released Sir Gaston from his service. He's coming home, my lady."

It was everything Belle could do not to either snap at the girl, or faint. Lydia came up beside her and grasped her hand, squeezing. It would not benefit anyone for the mistress of the castle to yell when no one but the three of them ...and Belle's mystery man, knew the news would not be welcome. Lydia took over, smiling at the maid. "We are pleased he was not injured. He obviously did a great service to the king." The maid nodded and scurried off. When she was out of sight, Belle nearly collapsed. Clem came to her other side and together, he and Lydia kept her upright. Clemson gently squeezed her upper arm. "Worry not, my lady. Surely he is not so stupid as to come here and seek you out after what he did."

Lydia sighed. "Yes he is, Clem. You know he is. In fact, as he is returning in triumph, coming to flaunt his victory to his betrothed's father is the very first thing he'll do. Even before going to see his own family." She looked at Belle. "Perhaps you should come and stay with me for a few days."

Belle was almost shaking; fear rose inside her like a bile. "I cannot. My father would not understand."

"Then it's time you tell him," Clem said.

"He won't believe me, Clem. Certainly not now." Belle knew it was true. Her father would not have believed Gaston capable of harming her before. Now? Gaston was a hero. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't run, she couldn't hide. Did she dare call for Rum and have him protect her? No. Revealing to her father that there was another man in her life, one she had chosen, someone she loved, would do nothing but create tension. She knew she would eventually have to explain Rum to her father. They had both believed she had a few years before that would become necessary. That she would be 16 or 17, and beyond parental control. Right now, at 14, she was just as much a chess piece in the games of the aristocracy as she had been a year ago.

In silence, the three of them walked back toward the castle. Belle's only hope was to feign illness and retreat to her rooms. Unfortunately, Lydia had been right. By the time they got to the castle, it was clear that Gaston had arrived. Belle staggered slightly and then brushed off her friends helping hands and squared her shoulders. He would not strike her in front of her father. Of this she was absolutely certain. As they walked in to the Great Room, Gaston smiled and scooped her into his arms. Half a second later, he gasped and dropped her. Clemson was there and caught her, preventing her from falling on the floor. He glared at his 'best friend.' "What the hell was that?"

Gaston's booming voice made her cringe. She was so used to Rum's soft, hoarse accented tones that Gaston was an intrusion. Clemson did not leave her side. "Something stuck me."

Clem rolled his eyes. "You've just returned from battling a dragon, and one of Belle's pins caused you so much pain you almost dropped her to the ground?"

"No. It wasn't a pin." Gaston looked confused. He glanced at Belle, still standing in the circle of Clem's arms and scowled. "Have you left Lydia, Clemson? I would advise against you trying to move in on my girl."

Lydia appeared at that moment and she, too, stood with Belle. "He has not, as you can see." She flashed Belle a look that said 'Damn why didn't we think of that?' and Belle shrugged. She smiled at Clemson. "I'm fine. He surprised me, nothing more."

"Are you sure? Clearly something struck him, did you not feel it?" Clem was clearly afraid of leaving Belle to her own devices, but when she nodded, he stepped away, putting his arm around Lydia.

Belle turned to face Gaston. "I would expect that your father wishes you to return home. Perhaps that would be best." He was being dismissed, and he knew it. His face turned red with anger and he opened his mouth to say something, but found himself unable. Belle almost laughed. She had once wished that her sorcerer be capable of closing Gaston's mouth for her. It would appear that he actually had. She had no idea what sort of spell, or spells Rum had infused within the ring she wore, but she had no doubt at all that the piercing pain, and his inability to speak if his words were meant in anger, were a result of magic. He had promised her that so long as she wore the ring she would be safe, and he clearly meant to keep that promise whether he was physically present or not.

Gaston nodded. "I should. Go home, that is. I will call on you tomorrow, my lady." He bowed and exited, throwing a glare at both Clemson and Lydia.

The trio sighed with relief. "Well, that went better than I thought it would," Clem said with humor. "I don't know who this other person is, Lady Belle, but he is very protective of you. From a distance, if I am not mistaken."

Belle only smiled and nodded. "He is at that." Her smile faltered when she looked at Lydia. "What?"

"I don't know how he does it, but it feels like dark magic to me, Belle. Are you certain he's safe? That sort of magic is not to be used lightly." Belle could understand her friends fears. Dark magic was never to be taken for granted. She would ask him about it, ask him to teach her at least enough to control the power of the ring. She did not want to find herself in an argument about something of no consequence and have the ring injure one of her servants.

Clemson let it go, "What time would you have us here tomorrow, Belle? I do not wish for you to have to deal with Gaston alone. I know you feel protected, and you obviously have reason to believe that, but we would not leave you to face him without another person there."

Lydia nodded her agreement. "Clem is right. Whatever it is that protects you, it is still nice to have real people with you."

"I agree," Belle said, smiling. She was so very grateful for her friends. She looked to Clemson. "Do you think he will be well enough to travel after a night of celebration?"

He nodded. "He will. Not until the afternoon, however, I should think." Clem grinned. "He will expect me to attend. I will make sure he is far too hungover to ride before half past midday."

Belle and Lydia laughed. Lydia threw her arms around him, "You are amazing."

Clemson blushed. "Only to you, my lady." And he kissed her lightly. "We will be here at midday, Belle. Not a moment later."

Belle bid them farewell, and retired to her rooms. It felt nice to have friends such as these. "They watch out for you. I am grateful." She was so used to Rum's constant presence that his voice did nothing but cause her to smile. Every day, since her birthday, he had been there. He had not kissed her again, to her constant annoyance, in fact he kept a distance between them that was chaste at best. He no longer sat near her on the bed, but had instead placed a comfortable chair at her bedside in which he would sit. She hated it, but he had assured her that it was to ensure her virtue. At this point, Belle was more than willing to give up that particular part of her childhood, but Rum simply wasn't having it. It was for her husband to take that from her, and no one else. She had gone so far as to inquire about whom that 'husband' might be, but he had been unwilling to comment. She knew he wanted a future for them, but there were times when she could see questions in his eyes. Not necessarily questions of his own love, but indecision as to whether she would always love him. And no matter how often she told him that she would, that his physical appearance meant nothing to her, she knew he still had doubts.

She turned to look at him. "I take it you've heard."

His eyes sparkled. "Oh, my lady, I hear everything."

"I would have you teach me how to control the magic in this ring, Rum. I do not wish it to hurt someone if their intent is not malicious."

He paused, rubbing his fingers together as he always did when he was nervous. "I do not think that wise, Belle."

She reached around behind her neck and began to unclasp the chain. "Then I will remove it unless I am in the presence of Gaston."

He was beside her in a flash, his hands on hers, stopping her movements. "Have you always been like this? So ...demanding?"

"I am not demanding," she said, reveling in the feeling of his hands on hers. He had refrained from touching her since her birthday as well, and she missed the warmth of his hands, indeed, she missed the warmth of his body. Things had been much easier before they had kissed. He had not been so fearful of being near her. And while she wanted to feel sorry that the kiss had taken place at all, she found she could not. She only hoped she did not have to wait two more years for it to happen again.

He lifted her hair, and when he was content that the clasp was still in place, lowered his hands. Belle must have made an annoyed sound because he looked on her in question. She sighed. "I miss you."

"But, I'm here," he said, although he knew exactly of what she spoke. When she only raised an eyebrow he sighed, "I know. I miss you too. Perhaps I have been too ...cautious."

Belle looked at the chair next to her bed. "Do you think?"

He raised a hand and the chair disappeared. "As my lady wishes. It shall be as it was before. I promise to control myself." She could hear the smile in his voice, and while she wished with all of her being that he would stop controlling himself, she let it stand. One step at a time. They would manage one another one step at a time.

"Good," she said, smiling. "Now, about this ring."

Rum nodded with reluctance. "I will teach you, but you must promise to do exactly what I say. Magic can be dangerous when not handled correctly."

"I promise," she said and moved forward to embrace him. He stiffened for barely a moment, and then remembering their agreement, draped his arms loosely around her.

"I would not have you hurt, by man, or by magic," he said, his face in her hair.

Belle sighed, content, at least for the moment. "Then we will be careful."

He didn't release her, and she was unwilling to move out of the circle of his arms. The weeks he had spent pretending that he could wait at least until her next birthday to touch her or hold her again had been the longest of his life. It was pointless to attempt to be with her and yet not show her any physical affection. He should have known it wasn't going to work. He smiled. Perhaps he was simply a man after all.


	19. Lessons in Magic

Rumplestiltskin was pleasantly surprised. Belle seemed to be taking to magic fairly quickly and he hoped, fervently, that he could teach her enough to waylay her fears about the ring without exposing her to the true darkness of what it was he did. And he didn't have any misconceptions about it. He had been a living, breathing, cesspool of dark magic since he had killed Zoso hundreds of years ago and that decision had cost him dearly. He did not want it to cost him Belle as well.

Currently, she was sitting cross-legged on her bed. He was sitting behind her, guiding her hands, showing her which movements and incantations would control the actions of the magic held within the ring. He had tried ...really tried, to teach her from where he'd been sitting before, which was, as always, beside her. However, it had proved to be both horribly awkward and practically useless as Belle would try to mirror him and instead do the opposite which had already caused them to break several vases and a mirror. The resulting smashing sounds had brought first maids and finally her father to the door and he had given up, moving to a much more tempting, but infinitely more helpful position.

Fortunately, she had not been joking when she had requested these lessons. She did, in fact, want to learn to control the ring, lest someone get injured. Someone she had no intention of hurting. As such, she did not seem to notice that he was pressed against her. Her focus was entirely on what her hands were doing and whether or not her efforts were getting results.

She shook off his guidance and tried the incantation on her own, moving her right hand forward and to the left slightly. A resulting buzz filled the air directly in front of her, a shield of energy, as if were, and Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Good. Very good."

She squeezed the hand she still held and smiled. "What else does it do?"

"Let's just focus on those things that you can control, okay? Some of the magic in the ring in just ...I'm not sure how to explain it. It's innate to the protection spell I put on it, you have no control over it, but it won't harm anyone should you become angry." He honestly wasn't certain how to help her understand that the original magic, the actual spell that created the ring she now wore was simply magic in its base form. It had potential, but was not an actual spell in and of itself. She didn't seem to mind, but simply nodded.

He glanced over at her fireplace which had been ablaze since he arrived several hours ago and considered putting it out. The problem being, of course, that once it was gone and the room cooled, it would take another several hours to heat up again and he did not want Belle to be cold when she went to bed that night. Of course, he could magically warm the air, but Belle felt that using magic without cause was a waste of energy so he generally refrained. Usually, he didn't get hot, or cold for that matter, but for whatever reason, perhaps due to the magic in the air, he was stifling in the cloak he always wore. And, he was stuck. He didn't want to leave it on, but he couldn't take it off unless he went back to the Dark Castle, and Belle was doing so well in her lesson, he didn't want to interrupt her train of thought.

She shifted, leaning forward, and he realized that she was hot too. It was the cloak. Rumplestiltskin sighed. "Belle?"

She made another movement with her hand, and was able to bring up the blue energy field without the incantation. "Yes, what?"

"You're hot."

She grinned and turned around to look at him. "Thank you. Now, was that supposed to happen?"

He rolled his eyes and Belle laughed. "I mean, it's hot in this room. It's probably the magic in the air."

Belle's brain finally came out of serious learning mode to catch on to what he was saying. Well, she thought she knew what he was saying. "If you want to take that off ..." she motioned at his cloak. "Don't let me stop you." She turned back around and continued to bring up the energy field. "I'm doing this without the incantation. Is that supposed to happen? Rum?"

He sat there in silence, and finally said, "Yes, once you have the intent in your mind, then you can do anything without incantations. The words help to learn, but of course, you won't want to be yelling 'CONTEGO' at people. They might take it the wrong way." He laughed when she smacked his leg.

"Are you incapable of just saying 'yes' and letting it go?" She sounded annoyed.

"Yes," he said and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. He marveled at the woman in front of him. She was strong and capable, compassionate and caring, she refused to judge and despite his best efforts, she loved him. He wondered on a daily basis how long she would tolerate him wearing the hooded cloak before she gave up and told him not to come back. She, however, had surprised him by simply accepting it's presence, stating that he would remove it when he was ready and that nothing she did or said would make the slightest difference.

He didn't correct her, but she was wrong. Should she give him an ultimatum, the cloak or her, he would choose her every time. He was just to the point where he was so hot he was seriously considering ditching the cloak when her father knocked on her door. It took everything Rumplestliltskin had not to sigh.

"Belle?" Her father's voice was soft. Although she had told him she'd dropped the vase, he seemed to think she was upset. In retrospect, she was, as he had been unwilling to call off her engagement to Gaston, even when she had insisted and admitted that Gaston had been both mean and unpleasant. Belle said nothing so her father continued. "Your friend Clemson is here. He looks as if he's been in a fight."

Belle glanced back at Rum. "I'll be right there." She waited until her fathers footsteps retreated and spoke in a softer voice to Rum. "Will you still be here when I get back?"

"I'll wait. Go see to your friend."

It took her barely 5 minutes to put her shoes on and bolt out the door. Clem was waiting in the hall. He did not look like he'd been in a fight; he looked as if someone had used his face as a punching bag. It was not yet eleven in the morning. "Gods Clem, what happened?"

He was out of breath, waving off the injuries like they meant nothing. "Is he here yet?"

"Who?" Belle asked, confused.

Clem started again. "I had an ...altercation with Gaston. I told him I knew what he did to you." When Belle covered the horrified gasp coming from her with her hand, Clemson sighed. "I'm so sorry, Belle. There was a lot of mead involved. I came as fast as I could."

She shook her head. "Come in, and let me see to your face. No, he's not yet here. If he was half as drunk as you obviously were, he may not remember."

Clemson followed her through the castle. "Trust me on this, Belle. He remembers."

Belle opened the door to her rooms and led him in to the reading area, sitting him on a chair near the fire. "Let me get something to help with the bruising."

She turned to leave just as Rum's voice came out of the bedroom. "Belle? Is he okay?" Clem's head whipped around, causing him to groan. Belle went for her bedroom door, but it was too late. Rum was standing in the doorway. When he saw Clemson sitting there, he nodded a greeting. "Are you going to live?"

"Likely," Clem said. Trying desperately to take this in stride. He knew that Belle had another man in her life. Had know for quite some time, but to see the shadowy figure, dressed in a black cloak, his face hidden in shadow by a hood, was entirely different. Now it wasn't simply conjecture, it was a living, breathing reality. Did he always dress like that? Or were his features hidden simply because Clem was there. Belle looked from one man to the other, decided it was too late to try to cover it up and walked out to fetch lanolin and several other herbal rubs that would reduce the swelling.

Rumplestiltskin decided he might as well be friendly. It had been ridiculous to think that he would remain hidden forever. Someone was eventually bound to see him. He was glad, at least at the moment, that it was Clemson. The boy and his fiance never failed to stand up for Belle and that made him inclined to like them both. "I can fix that," he stated matter of factly.

Clem shook his head. "I prefer to heal the normal way, but thank you."

"As you wish," Rum said and walked toward him to sit on the other chair he and Belle had placed by the fire several months ago. Belle liked to read, and there were times when he didn't want to disturb her, but standing always seemed to make her uncomfortable so he had conjured up another chair. For a few short weeks it had sat next to her bed. He'd had the best of intentions, but those were not always enough. The young man was staring at him and it was beginning to get annoying. "You won't be able to see past the hood."

The boy shook his head. "I don't need to. You wore that cloak to my father's home once. Many, many years ago now, but as the Dark One was in our house to exact payment from my grandfather, it was difficult to forget."

Rumplestiltskin was immortal. He was not supposed to get ill or have physical maladies and yet in that moment, he was certain he was having a heart attack. He tried to dismiss it. "There are many cloaks like this one."

"That's true," Clemson said with a touch of arrogance. "In lands so far away from these that one would have to travel through many realms to attain one."

This took him by surprise. "Really?" Clem nodded and Rum shrugged. "I don't suppose I gave it much thought." He looked at the boy seriously for a moment. "I would ask that you keep that information to yourself."

"Seriously?" Clem asked, annoyed. "You are hiding the fact that you are the Dark One from the woman who says you love her; that she loves you. Do you not think that information important to your relationship?"

"She knows I am a dark wizard." Rumplestiltskin had always known he couldn't keep the secret forever. It just wasn't feasible. Of course he was going to tell her. Granted, he had intended to wait for ...he paused. He had no idea what he was waiting for. It wasn't as if he needed to wait for her to be older for this. For some things, yes, her age was paramount, for this ...it didn't matter at all.

"But does she know you're the dark wizard? Does she know you are the most powerful sorcerer in the realms?" Clemson raised his voice. "Does she know what you are capable of?"

Rumplestiltskin's voice also got louder. "I'm going to tell her!"

Clemson stared at him for several silent moments, allowing for him to see the seriousness on his face. "Yes, you are going to tell her, because if you don't ...I will."

Rumplestiltskin pulled the hood off his head, allowing the absolute reality of just whom he was threatening to penetrate he boy's thick skull. "You will not make demands of me, boy. Do you have any idea what I'm capable of?"

Clemson rose, standing several inches taller than the Dark One. "Yes. I know exactly what you're capable of. I also know that if you've any love for that girl, you will not keep something like this from her. Not for another moment. Belle is my friend and I care about her a great deal. If she has fallen in love with you then as her friend, I can accept that, but if she has fallen for someone she sees only in her imagination ...that ...I cannot stand for. You do what you will to me, but mark my words Dark One ...I will tell her the truth."

They both stopped when Belle's voice came from behind them. "Tell me the truth about what?"


	20. A Life of Darkness

Belle looked curiously from one man to the other. "What's going on?"

Clemson glanced back at the Dark One. As far as he could see the hood was still off, and yet Belle showed no signs that she was seeing anything amiss. Clem was furious. The bastard was shielding himself with illusion. "I think your boyfriend here had something he was going to tell you."

Rumplestiltskin shot him the deadliest look he could manage and turned away, walking back in to the bedroom. The illusion was a simple one, and talking would allow her to see past it. Once he was certain he was out of sight, he pulled the hood back up around his face. Not that it was going to change anything if Clemson told her the truth. He had to hope that the boy would at least give him a few days to reveal himself, and apparently he needed to buy a new cloak.

Belle glared at Clem and dumped all the ointments she had in her hands on the table. "Put the brown stuff on first. I'll be back."

He wanted to say something. Really. He wanted to tell her that her boyfriend was the Dark One and not a man at all; that he was dangerous, that he was evil, that he embodied everything bad she had ever known, that he was darkness incarnate, and yet, something held him back. Not something magical, as he could tell that the Dark One was not holding his tongue, but something inside of him. This man, whatever he was, brought Belle happiness and Clem was not at all sure he was ready to destroy that for her, especially as Gaston was certainly on his way. He cared about her too much to pile one misery on top of another. They would deal with Gaston first, as it appeared the Dark One meant her no harm, in fact, if Clem had believed the dark wizard capable of love at all, he would have thought him desperately in love with Belle. Frankly, he wouldn't blame him. It was easy to love Belle. Perhaps under the darkness beat the heart of a man after all.

Belle walked into the bedroom and found Rum sitting on the bed. He was staring at his hands. "Are you okay?"

He looked up, his eyes sparkling in the shadows. "Yes, of course. Your friend is rather persistent, but .." He paused, considering. "I like him."

"Were you going to tell me something?" She asked the question because she had felt the tension in the room between the two men. If something was wrong; if something was bothering him, she wanted to know. That was what relationships were based on; two people willing to lean on one another, two people who knew that whatever happened to one, the other would stand at their side so they could face it together.

He sighed, holding her eyes with his own, "Do you trust me?"

She answered without hesitation. "Yes."

"Even though I wear this hood?"

Belle didn't know what was going on, but she was certain it was something she was not going to like. "Yes, Rum. I don't care about that stupid hood. I love you. Do you understand that? Whatever it is you feel you can't show or tell me, while I would prefer you did, it doesn't make me love you less. The man I fell in love with is not the physical appearance you hide beneath your cloak, but the soul inside the man that you give openly. Does that make sense?"

Rumplestiltskin stood, walked across the room, and pulling Belle into his arms, kissed her with a fierce desperation he hadn't realized was there until that moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, holding him as close as she could manage. She didn't know what had happened between he and Clemson, but there was something about the kiss that felt like a farewell, as if he was trying to absorb as much of her as possible before something happened that would change them both forever. They were like that for several minutes; pressed together, one into the other, each unwilling to let go and both knowing they would have to eventually. It ended slower than it began, a soft parting, a gentle sigh, his lips pressed to her forehead until they finally pulled back to stare at one another.

Belle said it first, because she didn't know if she could bear to hear it from him. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

He nodded. "I must. There are some things I must take care of." He squeezed her hands. "It won't be forever. I'll be back, I promise."

As she usually did, Belle took a breath, held back the tears threatening to overwhelm her and straightened. "When?"

He touched her cheek gently. "I don't know. As soon as I can."

"If Clem said something ..." she started, but he cut her off.

"No, sweetheart. It wasn't him. I need to make other arrangements, things that will benefit the both of us. I hope it won't take too long. I dislike leaving you when Gaston is still welcome inside this castle. I do not want that bastard anywhere near you, Belle, but it would seem your father is misled by the boy's charm. You have the ring," He reached out and touched it through her shirt. It felt uncomfortably warm for barely a second and then the sensation receded. "It will protect you while I'm gone." They were still standing so close that Belle could feel the heat coming from his body. She buried her face in his chest and he sighed, wrapping her in his arms and holding her against him. "No matter what anyone tells you, my Belle, I do love you."

Her head shot up at this and she stared at him. She could see his eyes; their inky blackness filled with both love and regret. She didn't know what to say. She had dreamed of this; of him saying the words and yet now that he had, she almost wished he had waited. To have him finally tell her that he loved her; to finally know without merely assuming, was one of the most amazing things to happen to her in her life, but on the heels of that was the knowledge that he was leaving ...and no matter what he said, she knew it would be for longer than either of them would like. He had been such a constant in her life for so long that the idea of not seeing him, not touching him, for months ...gods forbid, years ...was so horrifying she couldn't even bring herself to consider it. "I don't care what other people say, Rum."

He dropped another kiss on her forehead. "When I return, I hope you will feel the same."

He sounded so distraught, that Belle stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "I will always love you. Whatever happens, whatever people say, whatever it is you are going to do ...I will still love you."

"You don't even know who I am," he said with a harshness she realized was not aimed at her, but at himself. "I can't even give you that."

"You have given me more than you realize," Belle said softly, her hands on his shoulders.

When he sighed in frustration, Belle took a chance and reached under his hood to run her fingers through his hair. He started to reach up and stop her, but then he dropped his arms to his sides, letting her do as she wished. If she was determined to remove his mask, he was not going to prevent it. In an action that spoke both of love and trust, she did not push the hood from his head, instead, she combed her fingers through his hair, reveling in the fact that she was touching him, and that he was trusting her. His hair was soft and hung in gentle curls down to his shoulders. "I have dreamed of this," she said softly, as if afraid any loud noises would ruin the moment. She sighed, letting his soft hair glide under her fingertips.

His voice came out strained. "Have you?"

She nodded. "And it is exactly as I imagined. Is it also brown?"

He did not have the strength to deny her any more. "Yes. It is brown. Did you dream of that as well?"

She nodded, and then they said nothing else as she explored this new territory, which was fortunate because he was not sure he could form a coherent thought. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the touch of another person. That it was this person, someone who loved him without reservation, someone who trusted him when she had no reason to, made it so much more fulfilling. Yes, he had to leave her to make new arrangements, to make other deals, some with people he would prefer never to deal with again, and while he didn't know how long it would take, he would always, always come back to her.

Clemson cleared his throat and brought them out of their private world. "Hate to interrupt, but Gaston just arrived. He's in talking to your father."

Belle made a face and pulled out of Rums arms. She did not want to deal with Gaston today. Or ever. She wanted to stay where she was. "Talking to my father about what?"

"From what I could hear, he believes the two of you should marry ..." Clemson paused and looked directly at Rumplestiltskin. "Within the month."

Rum and Belle spoke at the same time. "What?" Belle was perhaps slightly more panicked than Rumplestiltskin was. "What exactly did you hear, Clemson?"

"Only what I just told you," Clem said. "He asked your father if he thought you were old enough to marry and when Lord Maurice said yes, Gaston indicated that he would like to begin the preparations for that union ...today, if possible."

Belle looked horrified. "What did my father say?"

Clem shook his head. "I don't know, I could not hear them beyond that."

Rumplestiltskin snapped at him. "Your eavesdropping skills are horrible, boy."

Clemson glanced at the hooded figure, unafraid. "Given that I wasn't eavesdropping, I can see why one might think that. I heard only what they said before they closed the door to the library. You're the master of magic, here, why don't you make yourself useful?"

Belle gasped and stepped between them. "That's enough. I won't have the two of you going at one another." She put a hand against Rum's chest to prevent him from moving any closer to Clem. "I am not getting married to Gaston." She looked at Clem. "If you would go see if Lydia has arrived, I do believe she should be here by now." He nodded and after tossing a filthy look at the Dark One, left the room. Rum started to say something, but Belle held up a hand. "I know you won't let this happen, but if there are things you need to do that cannot wait, I think it best if you start as soon as you possibly can. I won't marry him, Rum. If I have to leave my home and live in the forest, that is what I will do. He is a dangerous, vain and violent man. I could never give my heart to one as superficial as he."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, and pulled her back in to his arms. "Are you sure, Belle? I would stay if you like, at least until he is gone."

"Rum, am I wrong in thinking that the arrangements you are making are to ensure Gaston's continued absence?" He shook his head. "And am I correct in believing that you are attempting to facilitate his absence without having him killed?" He nodded. "Then even should you wait for him to be gone today, will he not simply return tomorrow?" He hated it when she had a point.

"Then I will take my leave." He didn't move, but instead pulled her still closer, holding her tightly against him. "I will be back before you have the chance to miss me."

Belle smiled up at him and then stood on tiptoe to capture one final kiss. His arms grew tighter around her waist and he lifted her off her feet, as to not strain her muscles. It lasted longer than either of them planned and only a knock on the door, and her father's insistent voice, broke them apart. "I love you, Belle. No matter what happens beyond now ...I love you, and I always will."

She smiled, and reached up to gently touch the side of his face. He turned his head and kissed her palm and then, like smoke, he was gone. It took her several moments to register the strange texture of his skin. Perhaps it had just been her own hands, or a shadow of a beard that had caused such a strange sensation. Although his face, as the rest of him, was warm, it had felt ridged, like the scales of a dragon. Of course, she was imagining things, he likely had a beard, or she had touched the collar of a shirt of some kind. Belle laughed at herself. She had been so occupied by the fact that he had allowed her to touch his face at all, aside from when they kissed, that she had no idea what he'd felt like. And yet the sensation lingered on her fingers. It mattered not, in any case, it was time she dealt with her father, and with Gaston of Avonlea.


	21. Preparations

Belle

 

It had been weeks ...months ...years ...Belle had lost track. It had been too long. For several weeks after Rum's departure she had taken to her rooms, unwilling to emerge even when her father yelled at her, or her maids begged her. She knew she was acting like a child, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Her father had moved ahead with her wedding preparations completely disregarding her wishes. In the end, she found it didn't matter. He could do all the preparing he wanted and she still wasn't going to marry that useless waste of space. It had been Lydia and Clemson who had finally coaxed her outside the castle. Their wedding was coming up rapidly and while Belle found it impossible to be cheerful in general, she was glad for her friends. They deserved to be happy, even if she could not.

She was walking arm and arm with Lydia in the orchard when her friend finally sighed with exasperation and stopped. Belle walked several paces before she realized she was being pulled backward. Lydia released her and crossed her arms over her chest. "Tell me."

It wasn't actually a question, but Belle stared at her in confusion anyway. Lydia huffed in irritation. "About the man you are mourning. It hasn't helped you to stop talking about him, perhaps the opposite will be more beneficial."

Belle swallowed and shrugged. "He said he would come back."

Lydia nodded. "Did he say when?"

"No ...but …," Belle started, but Lydia cut her off.

"So, he didn't give you any approximate time frame?"

Belle sighed. "He said it might take some time."

Lydia was silent for a moment, and then she moved back to Belle's side. "Then it is perhaps taking longer than he anticipated. I know you love him, do you trust him?"

"Of course I do," Belle said with fervor. "But by the time he manages to return, I'll be married off and have nine children."

Lydia grinned and started giggling. "Nine? Nine? If it takes him that long ..." Lydia smothered a laugh. "Well, he'll still love you when you're old and fat, won't he?"

Belle smiled, the first genuine smile Lydia had seen on her face in months. It lasted for about 12 seconds and Lydia sighed. "You know, he hasn't missed my birthday once since I turned eight years-old."

"Well, you are not yet 15, Belle. Perhaps he is headed this way as we speak." Lydia sounded so positive that this was the case, that Belle almost smiled.

"Yes, perhaps. It's just been so long ..." She looked at her friend. "I fear for him, Lydia. What if he is hurt? What if he is lying in a ditch somewhere calling for me to help him and I cannot?" She looked away and down at the ground, her real fears coming out before she realized what she was saying. "What if he never really wanted me at all?"

Lydia sighed and shook her head. She had no idea how to pull Belle out of her sorrow. Her only hope was that this man would soon return, if he intended to return at all, and things would be as they were. Clemson had been absolutely obsessive in his hope that he never came back and waited impatiently for Belle to move on, but he was equally unwilling to tell her why he felt that way. He would only say that it would benefit Belle should the man not return.

Looking at her friend, Lydia had to disagree. Belle was wasting away before her eyes. She had lost a considerable amount of weight, her face looked sunken as if she wasn't sleeping, her eyes had lost their sparkle and seemed dull, almost lifeless. What made Lydia angrier was that Lord Maurice turned a blind eye to his daughters distress and continued planning her wedding to Gaston. Belle had stated point blank that she was not going to marry him; that she would leave her friends and family behind and move away if her father continued to insist. Lydia could see that day coming ever closer. She and Clem had planned their wedding to interfere with the Duke's plans. They were to marry the day after Belle's birthday, giving her at least an extra week before anyone started talking about her getting married again. Lydia smiled. It was hard not to. Even when her friend was clearly in distress, the knowledge that she would soon have Clem all to herself gave her joy. She tried to stop it when she and Belle were together, but sometimes it wasn't possible.

Next to her, Belle started laughing and Lydia was ...well, alarmed, to be honest. Her friend shook her head. "I know how excited you are for your wedding to Clem. You don't have to attempt to be depressed on my account. I'd be thrilled to marry him too."

Lydia shot her a grateful look. "I am a very lucky woman," she agreed. "Look, I know the three of us have not spoken of it, but should it become necessary, you are welcome in our home for however long it takes for your father to pull his head out of his ass. You know that, right?"

Belle felt her heart swell with love for these people who had become closer to her than her own family. "I do appreciate it, but I would not intrude on a newlywed couple."

Her friend glanced at her sideways. "I was thinking more along the lines of after several months." Lydia winked. "Clem's moans of passion would keep you awake."

Both of them laughed and continued walking. Several moments later Clemson came bolting out of the castle. "Wait!" He sounded a mixture of frightened and excited. The girls came to a stop as he caught up.

"What is it?" Lydia did not like the tone of his voice. Generally, Clemson was a kind and gentle man who took great care of the people around him. But there were times when he got a particular look in his eyes that made her worry. He had looked like this just before he had gotten in to Gaston's face about what he'd done to Belle.

"The Ogres have reinforced their numbers. They attacked the Lowlands this morning." Clemson was almost vibrating with excitement. The Ogres had been a problem in their realm for years, and every several decades they managed to congregate in large enough numbers that they would begin trying to take over. No one was entirely certain how this happened. Ogres were, by nature, not horribly intelligent nor did they ever seem to have an agenda aside from killing enough people to overrun the lands. It wasn't as if they were in need of possessions or comfort. It always appeared that they simply killed for pleasure. The king would call first for the men of all the villages, and then, when the numbers dwindled, the Dukes would be required to find soldiers. It was always a blood bath; so many people were lost, adults and children. Lydia knew, if the Ogres advanced into King George's territory, Clemson would be called to fight.

"I don't understand. The last I heard they had retreated back to the North." Lydia could not share in Clem's excitement. She knew that the men found pride in proving their courage to the king, but she didn't want him anywhere near a war with the Ogres.

"We don't have all the news, but apparently the mountain pass that should be iced over was clear."

Lydia shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."

Belle watched the exchange. She had heard of the Ogre Wars, as all the people in this realm had. It had been but a year since the Ogres had been obliterated and forced to retreat back to the North. It had been a welcome reprieve to Avonlea and Southlands, as they had been preparing to send their men to war as soon as the Ogres passed the Midland line. Clemson and Gaston had talked of little else in those weeks. Excited to fight, as men so often were. Lydia was right. It made no sense at all that the pass through the mountains was clear. As far as she knew, that pass had never been clear. If the Ogres advanced as quickly as they usually did, they would reach the outskirts of King George's territory in a few months. It was a terrifying thought, and while she would be grateful if her own wedding were postponed so her betrothed could fight against the Ogres, she worried for Clemson and Lydia.

When she looked up, Clem had pulled a weeping Lydia into his arms; his excitement gone. "Don't worry, Lyd. I'm sure Midas' men will stop them. They'll never get this far." He paused, pulling her closer. "Oh, sweetheart, please don't cry."

It was something that Rum had said to Belle, and it caused her heart to throb in pain. She missed him with a desperation that was not normal, and she knew she would eventually have to pull herself together. If the men of her fathers lands were to be sent to war, Belle would be needed to rally the women, to help set up outposts for medical aid and food. The castle would, in effect, need to be turned in to a safe haven. It would need to be reinforced, the doors barred and it would have to start now. She could not wait until half of her servants had been called to be soldiers.

Perhaps it was for the best. At least with the Ogres threatening to overrun them, she had a purpose. It would occupy her mind and keep her from missing Rum. Well, okay, it wouldn't, but it would keep her busy and at the moment, that was all she could ask for. She bid farewell to Clem and Lydia, leaving them to find comfort in one another and headed back to the castle. There was much to do, and if she started now, by the time the injured began to seek refuge, they would be ready to receive them. She had been trained for this by her father since she was a child. He had always been insistent that one day she would inherit the castle and lands he owned. When he had made the arrangements with Lord Avonlea for she and Gaston to marry, the constant lessons in war and defense had stopped, but fortunately, she still remembered everything she had learned when she was a child.

 

Rumplestiltskin

He stood on the balcony of Regina's castle. There were many places he would prefer to be; unfortunately this was where he needed to be. As it usually did, his mind drifted back to Belle. He had been gone too long. He had known that dealing with Regina would take time, as the witch queen generally made ridiculous demands that they would then have to argue over for weeks. He wanted with every fiber of his being to flash out of this castle and go to Belle, to assure her that he had not forgotten her, but one of their ongoing agreements was that they would not use magic inside each others home. He sighed. Belle's birthday was in a few days. He had never missed her birthday; not once since she turned eight, but he knew without a doubt he was going to, at least physically, miss this one.

So far, he had managed to get the queen to agree to one thing. Clear the pass to allow the Ogres to get through. He had made a deal with Duke Avonlea to push them back to the Northlands, and he had done it, but now, as Belle's father was quite insistent that she marry Gaston, he was using a loophole in the original deal. By clearing the pass, he was not breaking the promise he'd made. He was simply allowing for the Ogres to advance faster than they normally would have. Granted, a war would not be his first choice. He, himself, had been caught within the Ogre Wars twice. Once before Baelfire had been born, when due to his own handicaps he had refused to fight, and once when they had tried to take his son from him. It was that one act by a moronic and uncaring Duke that had created the monster he was to this day.

He shook his head. It didn't matter. He would, one way or another, get that buffoon away from his Belle and when finally she was old enough to make her own choices, should she actually choose him once she knew everything, he would take her away from that life and give her anything she wanted. His fear, of course, was that she would see the monster under the hood and want nothing to do with him. It plagued him every day, every moment.

"You seem lost in thought, Rumple." Regina came up behind him and he shook his head.

"No. Just passing the time until we can reach some sort of agreement and I can leave," he said with venom.

The queen scoffed. "I have told you my price. I will ensure that the Ogres get past King Midas in exchange for the squid ink."

Rumplestiltskin was disinclined to give Regina access to ink that was capable of taking him, or any other powerful sorcerer, captive. He had no idea what she might do with it even if he made a condition of the deal that she would never use it on him, she certainly had plans for it. If she didn't, she wouldn't ask for it at all. "As soon as you tell me what it is you intend to do with it, Regina, we can made a deal."

"Why should it matter to you?" she asked and he scoffed.

"If it doesn't matter, then tell me and let me be on my way."

Regina smiled, and it was not a pleasant expression. "I have my reasons for wanting it, that is all you need know."

Rumplestiltskin had the overwhelming desire to bang his head against a wall. They had been at this impasse for weeks and he was becoming impatient. Of course, that is exactly what she wanted. She knew he wanted to leave; knew there was something he was not telling her and she was clearly going to play this game until he did. Unfortunately for her, he had no intention of telling her about Belle. It was not information pertinent to this deal.

He was tired of Regina. He had been tired of Regina for years, but at the moment, he would simply love to take back everything he'd ever taught her and leave her to the ministrations of her mother. She had been so much easier to control when she'd been but a pupil. "I will retire to my chambers. I would advise you, Regina, to give some serious thought to what I am asking. I will not remain here forever. I have other places to be, other deals to make and should it become necessary I will seek out your mother and offer the ink to her. I hope I am being very clear." With that, he left her standing on the balcony and walked to the rooms she had given him. It was the only place of respite he had within the castle. He had taken great pains upon his arrival to cover every surface that sported a reflection. He knew she could, and would, spy on him given the chance.

He pulled off his dragon skin coat, vest and boots and tossed all of them in a corner. He didn't have the energy to undress further and instead lay down in leather breeches and a gold, silk shirt. He hoped his reminder that he knew where her mother currently resided, and the imminent threat of Cora being equipped with the ink would make Regina rethink her current position. Frankly, he could care less what she intended to do with it as long as she could find no loophole that would allow for it to be used on him, however, if that was her plan, and as she was not crowing from the rooftops about the sorcerer she planned to capture, it seemed likely, he had to be careful in the negotiation. There was no room for error when dealing with Regina.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Never, in his entire existence, had he felt such longing as he did now. He wanted to be with Belle. In fact, he had no desire to ever be without her. It seemed strange that he had gone from being something of a surrogate father, to being so deeply in love that he couldn't even comprehend his life without her in it. He drifted into a fitful sleep and reached out to her, hoping that their love would perhaps bring them together, even if it were only a dream.

For once, Belle was there. He knew she'd been having trouble sleeping and as he did not need much, they had missed one another constantly. She was facing away from him; a dream fog surrounding her. She wore what he loved to seen her in. A white, silk nightgown that clung to the gentle curves of her body. He sighed, and she turned. "Rum?"

His first instinct was to reach for his hood, but it wasn't there. Of course ...this was a dream. At the moment, he didn't care in the least. "Yes, sweetheart. I'm here."

Her stunning sapphire eyes brimmed with tears as she crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him. "Gods, I miss you. Please come back."

He kissed the top of her head. "As soon as I am able, love. I promise you I will be back."

They said nothing else. Their mouths and tongues fused together in longing and need. An urgency that had never been part of their relationship before was uncontrollable now. He wanted nothing more than to take her. Here. Now. But he resisted. Perhaps it was that they were only dreaming and if he was going to lay with her, he wanted it to be real, or perhaps it was simply that their dreams could go no further. Making love was not something Belle had been exposed to and her mind, therefore, was unable to create the images and feelings needed. He didn't care. He was content to explore her face, her hair, her mouth with his own, kissing everything he had access to. She responded in kind, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair; to cup his face, to run down his chest until he was certain he was going to lose his mind. He had never felt her hands on his face before; stroking gently as their mouths teased each other into madness. It felt wonderful. Her hands were warm and soft and as they ran over the slightly raised texture of his cheeks and forehead he wondered if she would become frightened and pull away. She didn't. Instead her lips left his and traced a line of fire from his chin to his temple. First on one side, and then on the other. He could do nothing but stand there and marvel at her stunning beauty.

Belle pulled back, taking in his appearance and he looked away, ashamed. She raised a hand and pulled his chin up to look into his dark eyes. "You are beautiful. Never doubt it again. Not for an instant."

He reached out to pull her back into his arms, but she was gone. Rumplestiltskin started awake, the dream lingering in his mind. He needed to go back. Whatever he had to do, even if it included involving Cora, he would do it, just as long as that path took him back to his Belle.


	22. War

Rumplestiltskin

It was ...Rumplestiltskin paused, honestly, he had no idea what time it was. Earlyish? Belle's birthday. That was the one thing he knew for a fact. Today was his Belle's birthday and he wasn't there. She was 15 today. Old enough to start making her own decisions despite what her family wanted and he was hoping against all hope that she would put her foot down about Gaston. Yes, he knew she'd made it clear before that she had no intention of marrying him, but now ...now it actually meant something. Now she was old enough to force her father to listen.

He paced in his chambers waiting for Regina to come to the conclusion that either she told him what she wanted with squid ink, a substance capable of trapping even the most powerful of wizards, or he would find her mother and offer her the same deal. He was still fine tuning the negotiation as he was fairly certain that the queen's plan had something to do with him and he wanted to make certain the deal included a clause that rendered the ink useless if used on him. Actually, that wasn't a bad idea. The power of suggestion was amazing. He didn't actually need the ink to be useless; only to make Regina believe it was. If she refused to make the deal at that point, he would have all the answers he needed.

Although the queen could never know, he needed to be finished with this as soon as possible. He had feared that the well trained knights and soldiers that populated King Midas' kingdom would be able to push back the ogres, and the latest news indicated that his fear was justified. Midas' men were holding them at the Midland line and pushing them back into the Highlands. If they continued to lose ground, everything he'd set in motion would be for naught. They had to get past Midas. They had to cross through Midland and move toward Avonlea. King George was many things, brave wasn't one of them. Rumplestiltskin knew that the moment the ogres entered his kingdom he would send knights out to reinforce Midas. He also knew that Gaston would be one of the first, if not actually the first, to volunteer. This was the boy's fatal flaw. His need for respect and his belief in his own prowess made him stupid. It would, however, get him away from Belle and that had always been the goal. Keep him away long enough for Belle to get through to her father. He wondered for a moment what their plans were beyond that? He had been so obsessed with getting her away from Gaston that he'd not allowed himself to look in to the future. What was he going to do once they had accomplished their goal? Did he confess everything and whisk her off to the Dark Castle, away from her family and friends? He was suddenly consumed with anxiety. She was 15 today. She was now of an age that would allow for her to stand up to her father and refuse his demands. It would not be long before she wanted him to come out in the open. And then what the hell was he going to do? She was going to want to see him ...all of him, and the thought was so frightening it made him nauseous.

He had just decided to forget the deal when Regina came barging in to his chambers. He looked at her with irritation. "Do you knock?"

She held up a finger and wagged it in his face. "My castle, my rules."

"I'll remember that the next time you feel the need to visit my castle," he said. "What do you want?"

Regina sighed. "You never did have any manners, Rumple. Fine. I have allowed for the ogres to break through Midas' line. They have entered the kingdom of George. I need the ink to capture a particularly annoying fairy from Neverland. Is that enough of an explanation, or shall I show you the cage I have designed for her as well?"

He smiled and raised his hand in the air. A small bottle, about the side of a thimble, appeared in his palm. "I have no need of that information."

"So little?" Regina looked disappointed and Rumplestiltskin almost giggled with delight.

"Enough to capture a fairy, I should think. I spelled it to prevent it from working on me. Fear not, it shall work on anyone else you desire." He smirked at the look of irritation on her face and handed her the bottle. He wished he'd thought of this about two weeks ago. Of course, he could not change, magically or otherwise, the basic make up of the ink ...but Regina didn't know that and so long as she believed it to be true, he was safe. She had no reason to doubt his ability and from the look on her face, she didn't. "Do we have a deal, dearie?"

She closed her hand around the tiny bottle. "Deal. Now please go back to whatever it was you were doing. I've things to do."

He gave a mock bow. "As you wish." And knowing it would really piss her off, he disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke. He had never been more grateful to leave someone's presence in his very long life.

#

Clemson

He and Gaston had arrived at the front lines only hours before. The call had come earlier in the day and they had both left immediately for King George's castle. Clem couldn't honestly say he was happy ...excited, scared, ancy ...yes, all of those things, but his happiness remained at Northlands Castle with Belle. The injured who had been pushed back and were no longer able to fight had started arriving several days ago. He was glad that Lydia was safe, helping Belle and her servants tend to the injured. He was supposed to be getting married in two days, but now, looking at the blackened field of battle, strewn with dead soldiers, he didn't think he was going to make it. He shook off his melancholy; this was his duty as a knight of Avonlea. He had known that when he had taken the position, and he would be damned if he was backing down now.

They had been issued weapons, and were currently hunkered down in a foxhole near the front waiting for the next wave of attacks. Ogres were dangerous; deadly even, but horribly predictable. They would make a run at the line, and either drive the soldiers back or withdraw themselves, regroup, and do it again. Like clockwork.

Their last run had been just over a hour before and both Clemson and Gaston were covered in mud and soot. This time, the knights had managed to hold the line and push the ogres into retreat, but they knew it was only a matter of time before they attacked again. The only way to actually defeat the ogres was to kill enough of them to force a full retreat back to their homelands, where they would begin to rebuild their numbers until they were able to attack again. Usually, it took several generations after one battle to have the numbers they needed, but last time, as they had pushed closer to Midland and Avonlea, something had happened to force them back to the Northlands before their numbers were so low they couldn't reform their forces. Of course, that wouldn't have mattered if the pass through the mountains had been iced over as it had always been, but fate had seen fit to clear the pass and let the ogres through. What should have taken at least three years had happened in a little over one.

A horn sounded, and Clemson glanced at Gaston. They were coming. Why they felt the need to announce they were coming with a horn blast was a mystery. The roaring got closer and when the wave of ogres hit the first line of forces, screams erupted from the men unlucky enough to be caught, injured or killed. The latter was the most preferable option. Being caught tended to mean being dragged into the circle of the creatures and pulled apart like a smoked chicken. Ogres did not take prisoners, as they had no use for people whatsoever, but they did revel in torture ...albeit short torture, since it never lasted very long.

The roars grew closer and both men tensed, peeking up over the edge of their hide out to see just where the ogres were. They had reached the second line of defense. One man's scream was abruptly cut off when an ogre literally took his head off with a mace. The body dropped to the ground and Clem watched, disgusted, as the ogre picked up the head and tossed it toward another soldier, knocking him off his feet. They were not fast, or smart, or particularly good at planning out attacks, but they were large, strong and difficult to kill. Clem nocked an arrow and aimed as carefully as he could. He let out his breath, felt the world slow down around him, and his vision narrowed to the small area he was shooting at. One arrow in the eye and the ogre would be dead. If he missed ...the ogre would be pissed off. He let his fingers relax and the arrow left the bow. Clemson had just enough time to see the arrow hit its mark before another of the attack squad slammed a club into his head.

Gaston was two feet away, firing arrow after arrow, when he felt something warm hit his face. He reached up with gloved hands to find blood running down the left side of his body. He hadn't felt anything, and when he turned he realized why. Clem lay in the dirt, the ogre who had delivered the blow standing over him. The creature poked him with the club until Gaston screamed with rage and ran toward it. He pulled a sword as he went and slammed it into the top of the ogres head pushing until it came out near its chin. The creature made a sound of surprise and then fell over. Gaston yelled for Clemson, leaving the sword where it was, running to his friends side. One look told him he was too late. Clem lay on his side; blood pooled under his head which was turned at an angle that was not natural in any way. Gaston dropped to his knees, pulling Clem into his arms, shaking him, screaming at him to come back. In that moment, Gaston would have taken his place. Clemson was good, and kind, and had a fiance who loved him. He deserved to live. He deserved so much more than lying in a field with his head nearly ripped off.

Gaston pulled his best friend up, threw him over his shoulders and began to move toward the back of the lines. He would return. He would come back to avenge Clemson if he did nothing else, but right now, he had to take this man back to his family. His brain couldn't process anything beyond that. Get Clemson home, get him to Lydia, get him to people who would understand what Gaston had lost, who would mourn with him. He expected the world to stop turning; he expected the war to end with Clem's death, and was honestly surprised when people continued to fight and die around him. He said nothing to anyone; blindly smashing his way through more ogres than he could count. He had no idea if he was killing them, or they were simply stunned, but whatever the case, the knights behind him would take care of them once he had laid them out.

He didn't stop moving until he had reached the line of the forest and when he did, finally, turn, he saw the destruction he had left in his wake. Ten, fifteen, twenty ogres lay fallen, some clearly dead, some surrounded by knights who were making sure they did die. And yet he could not take pride in this accomplishment; he didn't care what the others thought. That it would take his best friends death to give him humility was a profoundly sad and depressing idea. He thought briefly of Belle; of what he had done to her. Had it not been for the cloaked man who had pulled him away, he would have hurt her in a way he would never have been able to take back, and the thought made him sick. She did not want to marry him; and now, with his best friend in his arms, knowing that he had to take this man back to a woman who loved him desperately, he understood ...finally ...why Belle couldn't stand to be around him. He could barely stand to be around himself.


	23. A Price to Pay

There was an air of misery in Northland Castle. Men, bloody and bruised from the battle would straggle in half-dead every few hours. Belle and Lydia did what they could, but many times the knights they tended were beyond help. It was the most horrible thing Belle had dealt with in her life, and yes, with her mind occupied she was unable to think of Rum constantly. Only at night, when her exhaustion overwhelmed her and she dreamed, did she see him at all. She felt almost certain at this point that he was not coming back; that for whatever reason, he had decided he did not love her as he had at first believed. She would eventually heal; this is what she told herself. When enough time had passed, she would be able to accept that Rum simply hadn't wanted her.

She would probably have continued to dwell on it if she hadn't heard her fathers voice calling for her. She smiled at the young man she had been tending and looked up to find him. His face was older, lined, drawn; he was not the same man he had been only a week before. Belle walked toward him, past Lydia, putting a hand on her friends shoulder. She had been invaluable at the castle. Helping wherever she could, soothing those who were beyond help, giving whatever she had to the poor souls who lay dying on the floor. Lydia glanced up and tried to smile. Belle simply nodded. She knew how her friend felt. It was impossible to feel happy with people dying around them. She reached her father and was alarmed when she saw the tears glistening in his eyes. They had not seen eye to eye in years, but that didn't mean she didn't love her father.

Lord Maurice stared at his daughter. He wasn't even sure what to say. "Gaston has returned."

Belle blinked several times. Why would Gaston have returned? Had they beaten the ogres back already? Instinctively she knew that wasn't it. "What's happened, Papa?" When her father glanced over her head at Lydia, Belle's heart stopped. She hadn't noticed at first, but he had not included Clemson when he had told her Gaston was back. She turned white with fear, reaching out and grasping her fathers hand. "Papa? Where is Clem?"

Maurice shook his head and Belle began to cry. He gathered his daughter into his arms. "I am so sorry, my girl. I know he was your friend."

Belle heard Lydia scream and turned to seek out her friend. Gaston was kneeling, holding her in his arms, letting her beat against his chest as she screamed at him to stop lying to her. His head came up briefly and Belle saw the desolate sadness in his dark eyes. She glanced at her father, and he simply nodded. He had not known Clemson very well and could only watch as the three friends clung to one another, trying to offer comfort and knowing it would not be possible for some time.

Together, Belle and Gaston managed to get Lydia to her feet and lead her out of the Great Room where they could mourn together in private. Maurice had no doubt that Gaston would feel the need to return to the battle, and he simply couldn't let that happen. Fear built in his chest as he realized what he must do. What he was contemplating was fraught with danger, but what other choice did he have? He could not allow another of Avonlea's sons to die on a battlefield. He would give up just about anything he had to prevent it, and knowing with whom he was dealing, he was going to have to.

Rumplestiltskin had just returned to the Dark Castle when the call came through. It was not what he expected. Well, okay, it was partially what he expected. As usual, he was being offered something he had no use for. Gold. However, the person offering had his complete and total attention. His first instinct was to flash over to the castle at that moment, but then what? The Duke had indicated that young Clemson had been killed and that his fear was that more of the young knights in both Avonlea and in the Southlands would be taken from them. It seemed that the ogres were far more dangerous this time. He had not anticipated that allowing them to pass through Midas' lines would put them in the path of soldiers who did not know how to fight. On the other hand, this would have happened regardless. Yes, it might have been several years from now, but they would still have come. They always did. He had not expected the Duke of the Southlands to call upon him for help.

He waited for what he felt was probably the appropriate amount of time and when he was certain Lord Maurice would willingly give up anything; when he knew that Avonlea had fallen, he flashed to Northland Castle, threw his power against the large door in greeting and appeared in the war room. Rumplestiltskin paused. It was empty. Shouldn't people involved in a war be ...well, in the war room? They returned shortly and he almost rolled his eyes. He had certainly given Gaston enough time to return to the front lines. He had assumed the knight would seek vengeance for his friends death, but here he was, and standing far to close to Belle for his liking.

Belle was staring at him in open curiosity. Her father had told her several weeks ago that he had called upon the Dark One. That he would not see any more of their people killed. She honestly hadn't thought he'd come. Her father was not a king, nor as rich as Lord Avonlea. Her father had no male heirs or small children, as she had heard that the Dark One often took the children for blood rituals. She stood next to Gaston, who had been different since he had returned. He was still prideful, and irritating but since Clemson had been killed he had become much more affable and easier to be around. While she still couldn't possibly love him, she had not called off their wedding either. Her father had told her that she had until her 17th birthday to make that decision, and as she was just past her 15th year, she knew she had some time.

The Dark One was as she remembered him. Small in stature, but sporting a long coat of dragon skin under which he wore a vest that was also some sort of scaled leather. A shirt of silk under the vest, leather breeches and boots. His face was still fascinating, and now, as she was much closer to him and had better light, she could see clearly. His eyes shifted from a black so dark the pupils could not be seen at all, to something rather like a reptile with the oblong iris being gold. She had no idea why they changed, but she wondered if it was to do with his mood. His skin was not as dark as it had at first seemed, although the description of mossy gray she'd come up with years ago was rather appropriate. His cheeks and forehead were textured, as she'd originally thought, but she couldn't tell if he actually had golden scales, or if it was simply how his skin lay. Altogether, he was not horrible to look at. Strange, yes. Unique, yes. But horrid ...ugly, no, she still could not see him that way. She had heard so many rumors about him throughout her life that it was no wonder he made her curious.

He giggled. "You sent me a message. 'Help. Help. We're dying. Can you save us?" When Gaston grew nervous and drew his sword, Belle had the overwhelming desire to pull him back. The Dark One looked at him with amused contempt and continued. "Now, the answer is ..." he paused, batting Gaston's sword away like it was a plaything. "Yes. I can." He paused here, as if performing for a audience. "For a price."

Lord Maurice glanced around the room. "We sent you a promise of gold."

"Yes. Well, you see. I make gold. What I want is something a bit more precious." The Dark One smiled, his teeth were stained but from what, Belle could not tell. He paused again and then delivered his coup de grace. "My price ...is ...her." He pointed at Belle.

Gaston threw an arm in front of her as the entire room erupted in shock. Her father said no, Gaston informed him that she was engaged, and during all of it, he simply smiled. No one in the room thought to give Belle a chance to speak, except perhaps the Dark One, who looked at no one else. "I wasn't asking if she was engaged. I'm not looking for ...love." His eyes darted over her and for a moment, barely a second, his exaggerated composure dropped as he looked at her. It didn't last long enough for her to make any judgments at all, but for a moment she had seen a man in those strange eyes. "I'm looking for a caretaker. For my rather large estate." He finished with a flourish and Belle once again heard her father say no.

The Dark One asked if they were sure and as she had always been told, he was willing to walk away and leave them to their own devices. Belle could see that her father was about to let that happen. He was about to give up their only hope of stopping the ogres before they reached Northland Castle. She couldn't let that happen. "Wait."

He stopped and turned curious, interested eyes on her. She moved around Gaston to stand in front of him. Up this close, he seemed less frightening somehow. That all his actions and motions were a practiced result of a front he showed to the world. She looked directly into his eyes. "I will go with him."

His eyes were large and surprised, again, barely for a moment before he settled into his persona and giggled with delight. Her father tried to stop her, but Belle was old enough now that she knew her own mind. This was, perhaps, the best solution. She could not marry Gaston. No matter how much he changed, he was still superficial at best. She could never love someone like that. There were emotions inside, deeper, that were so much more important than what was on the surface. It was something she had learned through her association with Rum. And she now knew he was unlikely to ever come back for her. She didn't know what had happened to him, but in choosing this, accepting a life serving the Dark One, she would at least be useful and that was something. "It's forever, dearie," he warned, but Belle had made up her mind.

"My family, my friends ...they will all live?"

He gave her a semi-bow. "You have my word."

Belle took a deep breath. "Then I will go with you." She paused and then, "Forever."

"Deal!" he laughed with glee.

Her father once again appealed to her, but it was too late now. The deal was struck. As she turned away from her family to face her new master, she found she was not as frightened as she thought she should have been. She didn't know why, exactly, but there was something about him that emulated a man who had the same fears, feelings and emotions as all men did.

The Dark One placed one of his hands on her waist. It too, was the same mossy gray as his face. His nails were long and black, but like the rest of him, they shimmered, as if something were hidden inside. His hand was warm on her waist. His touch was not harsh, but both a symbol of possession and a guide, and for a moment, familiar.


	24. The Dark Castle

Belle had mulled over many scenarios in her mind of what was going to happen once they arrived at the Dark One's home, but this ….wasn't one of them. They had traveled by carriage, which seemed odd for a dark wizard as powerful as this one. He had said only that magic might not agree with her and the trip would very likely be more comfortable the 'normal' way. He'd stated it with such an air of superiority that Belle had climbed into the carriage and ignored him for several hours.

In her mind, she had told him all about Rum, that she had once known a sorcerer who had allowed her to travel via magic and while uncomfortable, it had not been anything she couldn't handle. She had told him that she was a perfectly healthy and capable woman and that she would live up to the deal she made. In her mind, she had been witty and her remarks scathing. She had told him he didn't have to mollycoddle her like she was a child. Out loud, on the other hand, she said nothing. It wasn't that she was frightened of him so much as his quiet and reserved demeanor coupled with him always watching her with those strangely changing eyes, made her self-conscious.

After an exceptionally long day in the carriage, where they spoke not at all to one another, Belle was bored out of her mind. She had tried several times to speak to this silent stranger who had demanded her as a price but he was unresponsive. The carriage came to a stop what must have been over eight hours later. She had never been so happy to stop moving in her entire life. He stood and stepped out, reaching for her. She took his hand and he paused for just a moment, as if surprised that she was willing to touch him at all. Gods, how long had it been since anyone had shown him kindness? How long had it been since someone had realized that he was not a monster and should not be treated as such?

Belle gasped as she looked up, and up and up at the biggest castle she had ever seen. Lord Avonlea would have a stroke if he saw this place. It must have taken up the better part of three acres. Belle giggled at the thought of how jealous Gaston would be if he knew there was a castle in the realm that was larger than his fathers. It was entirely possible Lord Avonlea would feel the need to add on.

The Dark One turned curious eyes on her and she smiled. "I was just thinking that your castle would put the one at Avonlea to shame. The Duke would be inconsolable."

His eyes searched her face for several moments, his own features cast in shadow by the looming building and Belle had a moment of deja vu so powerful it made her gasp. "Are you well?" His high pitched, lilting voice seemed ...wrong, somehow. She stared at him, unable to look away, trying desperately to get back the image that had flashed so quickly through her mind, but she was so tired, even the smallest thoughts were quick to leave her.

He still looked concerned, and she nodded. "Yes. Fine. Just tired, I think."

The Dark One nodded. "Let me show you to your rooms." He walked through the door and into a hall so large Belle couldn't see the other side of the room or the ceiling. He never lit a torch and no fires burned. The doors opened when he approached and as they stepped into the Great Room candelabras along the walls burst in to flame. It was either the constant travel of the day, or her absolute exhaustion, or a mixture of both, but she burst in to laughter when she saw the gigantic wood table that sat dead center in the room. What was it with men and these huge tables? He stopped and turned to look at her quizzically while she gasped for air and wiped tears from her face. "Are you sure you are well?" This only made her laugh harder until she had to sit down in the only chair in the room. Okay, less a chair and more a throne and once again, men and large pieces of furniture made her dissolve into hysterics.

Rumplestiltskin watched in fascination as Belle filled his dreary castle with laughter. It was as if she was the sun, and had suddenly started shining here, in his world. He wanted to tell her. He had planned to tell her after she had bid her family and friends farewell and left instructions for her servants to pack her things. He thought it might be better to wait until she was comfortably inside the carriage.

He knew he couldn't transport her using magic. He had done it once, but at the time she had been almost incoherent, her mind so filled with terror that she was unable to think about what was happening beyond it being uncomfortable. This time, her mind was clear and as was always a problem with magic, when one was surrounded by potential, which is exactly what a magical vortex was, you could create just about anything. Belle would be unable to control her thoughts, and should she use the magical potential in the vortex for something else, they would both be trapped.

Rather that try to explain it to her, he called for a carriage. He had not realized his home was quite this far away. In fact, he had put Belle to sleep around midnight the day before. They were actually three full days from her home. He sighed. He was going to have to tell her that too. And he knew his Belle. She was going to be pissed about it.

Once they were under way he had decided it would perhaps be better to tell her after she had grown more comfortable in his company. It was everything he could do to be quiet and not pepper her with questions. He wanted so many different things and each warred with the others. He wanted to hold her in his arms and explain why he had been gone so long. He wanted to express his sadness at the loss of her friend Clemson, whom he had actually liked. He wanted to kiss her until she was unable to think straight. He wanted to tell her she was safe and would never have to marry anyone if she chose not to. He wanted her to know that he still loved her, and that he missed her terribly while he'd been gone. And yet none of these things came up.

He had grown unaccustomed to pleasant conversation over the time he had been away from Belle. As such, he sat there watching her, his intentions were good, but he could not make his tongue work. By the time he had worked up the courage to actually say something, she was beginning to nod off, but the rocking of the carriage would not allow for it. He had forgotten that humans required both comfort and rest ...actually he'd forgotten food and water too, but that was easy enough to take care of. He had put her into a deep sleep and made up his mind to tell her when she woke.

Of course, he hadn't. Truth be told, he wasn't even sure how to start. What was he supposed to say? "Hey Belle, it's me, Rum. Please don't scream like that?" He sighed and Belle stopped laughing."I'm sorry," she said, humor still sparkling in her eyes.

"Why?" He must have looked as surprised as he sounded because she turned to consider him. Long enough that he was beginning to think he had grown horns.

"You are not as bad as people wish to believe," Belle stated firmly.

"Is that not usually the case with rumors?" he asked, and she had to agree. He smiled, and for the first time it touched his black and gold eyes. Although they looked reptilian, the sparkle showed very clearly that a sentient being ...a man ...was inside. He cleared his throat. "Let me show you to your rooms. We will discuss everything else in the morning."

Belle was stunned. She was supposed to be his servant wasn't she? He must have realized at some point that she could not see because when he turned again to lead her from the Great Room he was holding a torch. Belle followed, paying no attention whatsoever to the route they were taking up the stairs and down several hallways. She simply couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity when she looked at him. She yawned. She was going to have to continue this line of thought in the morning. She could barely stand up. He made one last turn and opened a door, placing a small skeleton key in her hand. She looked at him in question and he shrugged. "I do not wish you to feel unsafe here, dearie, it would not be beneficial to your sleep and I prefer that you be awake, especially if you will be wielding anything deadly."

Well, that made sense. She was standing in a large reading room. A single, round table sat on a large shaggy carpet with what looked like soft, comfortable chairs on each side. Beyond that was an enormous fireplace that was already lit and had flames burning brightly inside. She hadn't realized that the room was warm until just now. He pointed. "That door will take you to your sleeping chamber." Belle yawned again and he reached out, almost pushing her toward the door. "Rest. We will talk tomorrow."

Belle could only nod sleepily. She opened the door to her bedroom and the Dark One backed away. She didn't even realize he had gone until she heard her door click. She smiled as she walked in to her new bedroom. It was lovely. A large canopy bed hung with blue sheer curtains and covered with what looked like down was situated in the middle. Across from it was a wood dresser and writing desk that had ink and paper already stocked in it. What surprised her the most was the built in shelves filled from floor to ceiling with books of every shape, size and color. She was so pleased that she actually turned to see if she could catch him, but of course, he was long gone and she did not have the energy to try to find him.

She had a small wardrobe near the window on the right side of the bed and a closed door on the other. She opened it to find a bathing chamber with the largest tub she had ever seen. Seriously, her entire family could community bathe in that tub. She giggled at the thought, and even that made her eyes droop. She was simply too tired for anything complex. She found towels, extra linens, wash clothes, soap ...everything she would need. Next to the bathing items she found sleep wear, once again, everything she would need until her own things arrived. Hanging on a hook, just above her eye level was a soft blue silk nightgown. If she didn't know better, she'd think it was her own from home. She was so very grateful. As his 'caretaker' he could have made her sleep in the stable and instead he was offering her comfort. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, she would be able to make a home for herself here after all.


	25. Rumplestiltskin

Belle woke the next morning in a bed that was too soft and too large to be her own. She started awake, and then she remembered. The Dark One, the carriage ride, the large table, his unusual kindness to someone who was clearly a prize, it didn't make sense to her, but perhaps, she reasoned, he was simply being nice because he could see how tired she was. He had not seemed either stiff or sore after such a long ride and she did not remember him ever closing his eyes. Perhaps he didn't sleep at all. She threw back the covers and while there was a slight chill to the air, it was still comfortably warm in her rooms. She paused for a moment to wonder if it was magic or the fact that the fire had not burned down during the night and then realized it had to be some of both. She was not used to such blatant displays of magic. Yes, Rum had used magic in her presence, but he had never flaunted the ability or used it when it was unnecessary. The Dark One clearly relied primarily on magic for everything. The castle, while enormous, had seemed cold and desolate last night. She wondered if anyone else lived here. Her first thought was that no, he had no one else here and it made her sad to think him so alone and then she realized an entire village could probably live on the other side of the castle and she might never see them. She shook her head, smiling. Everything here was just gigantic.

She went in to her bathing room and stared at the enormous tub she'd seen last night. How did one go about filling a tub that size? She turned to get a towel, intending to wash herself in the basin as best she could and then go ask him about the tub, but when she turned back around it was full. The water inside was steaming into the air. Well, that was handy. She wondered if it happened because she had thought about it, or because she had come in to the room. How did it know? She looked around, wondering if perhaps he was using magic to spy on her and then dismissed it. She didn't believe that for a moment. He had seemed many things, although she didn't yet know him well enough to make valid judgments, but his superior nature and constant intimidation seemed a facade.

Belle sighed. Whatever the case, whether he was just seeing to her needs or he was a dirty old man, it mattered not at all. She was grimy from the long journey and had been unable to bathe the night before. She felt utterly disgusting. She stripped off her nightclothes and slipped in to the bathtub. It was heaven. She didn't know what her duties were or when he expected her to begin working each day, but at the moment she just couldn't find it in her to care. She washed herself thoroughly and then realized she had nothing clean to wear. She sighed. She was going to have to put on the gown she'd worn yesterday.

She stood up, wrapped a towel around her, grabbed another for her hair and went through her bedroom to the sitting room to dry her hair by the fire. She was so involved in trying to rub her hair dry that she did not see him until it was too late and she had barreled right in to him. She gasped, pulling the towel closer against her body and looked up. The mixture of surprise and general male appreciation on his face was almost comical. He stared at her for one very long moment and then averted his gaze. "My apologies. The door was not locked."

Belle couldn't speak for several moments. He had dropped his head so that his soft hair fell into his face like a shield. He no longer wore either the imposing dragon skin coat or the vest, but just a golden silk shirt, leathers and boots. He was, as she had suspected, a slight man, but she had felt the presence of wiry muscle when they had bumped against one another. She had felt the same kind of muscle in his hands the day before. Of one thing she was absolutely certain. Although he depended upon magic for many things, he clearly took care of his body and did something that involved using his hands. She knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. She could see the flicker of his eyes through the curtain of hair. They were neither black, nor reptilian today, but simply a fiery gold that was stunning. She should say something, but she knew not what. Her instinct was to reach out and brush the hair from his face. He was not an ugly man, despite what he seemed to think, and he had no need to cover his face. She had actually started to reach for him when he straightened and stepped away. "I came to guide you. I did not think you were paying much attention last night."

It took his high-pitched voice to pull her out of her own mind. "I ...I'm sorry." Now that he had let his hair fall back into waves around his face, she felt self-conscious. She was wearing a towel! Belle glanced around her, looking for her gown because she had no real memory of removing it the night before and saw nothing.

"In the wardrobe." It was his voice and yet ...her head came around to look at him. It was deeper, softer ...familiar.

She shook her head. "What about the wardrobe?"

When he spoke again, he had the same high-pitched lilt she'd heard since she met him. "Clothes, dearie. Unless you wish to wear that around?" He motioned at the towel and giggled. Belle felt like she should probably be annoyed, but she was still mystified by his voice from a moment before. She felt so certain that it had been lower, softer ...a voice she had heard many, many times before, but ...that was impossible. Perhaps she was just not quite awake yet. "Shall I wait for you?"

Belle shook herself. She really had to stop staring and wondering about him. If she was going to live there for the rest of her life, it seemed like a good plan to simply ask him if she had questions. Her eyes searched his face for a moment and then she nodded. "Yes, if you would. You are right, I was out of sorts last night."

He nodded and stepped outside. She almost called him back. She hadn't meant for him to leave the sitting room, but it seemed silly. If she would stop pondering the mystery that was the Dark One, she could spend the day trying to figure him out. She pulled open the wardrobe, expecting to find her gown and gasped. There were literally dozens of dresses, both formal and casual, inside. She reached in and grabbed one. She would have to take time later to figure out what exactly she had here. She pulled out a lovely, comfortable looking blue and white dress and smiled. She had absolutely no doubt that it would fit.

She allowed her hair to dry as much as possible as she dressed, braided it so it would be out of the way, slipped in to a pair of soft looking shoes, and left the room.

He was waiting just outside. He looked surprised to see her and she laughed. "What?"

He actually returned her smile. "I had no idea a woman was capable of dressing that quickly."

Belle took the joke for what it was and laughed. "I would not have you waiting outside my rooms all day."

His eyes traveled over her body, causing her to shiver and avert her own gaze. "Best that you begin locking your door until you are dressed for the day."

Belle blushed several different shades of red. "Yes. I will."

He fell silent as he lead her through the hallways and down several flights of stairs she did not remember climbing to a landing that looked out over the Great Room. She had been unable to see it last night, and the light was still very limited. She looked with distaste at the heavy curtains that hung over at least eight large bay windows that should be filling the room with sunlight. The one thing she did remember was the gigantic table in the middle of the room. There were two chairs at the table now. One at the head, and one just to the left. A huge assortment of various fruits and pastries covered almost every inch of the massive table. His golden eyes turned to her again when he heard her gasp. "I was unsure what you preferred for breakfast."

That he had thought of her at all, of what she might want, made her smile. "Thank you. It looks wonderful."

He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

She hooked her hand just inside his elbow and they walked down the stairs together. She tried to take in the entire room, but found it impossible. Every several feet there was a pedestal with some sort of possession on it. Something he clearly valued. What would an immortal dark wizard value, she wondered, gazing at the items that were the closest to the table as he pulled out her chair and then sat down next to her.

Belle hadn't realized she was hungry until the scent of all that food made her stomach growl. The Dark One smiled again, and she realized he was pleased that he could provide her with something she needed. It was completely contrary to the way she had come to live here in the first place. She sighed, and his brows knit in question. "I was the mistress of Northland Castle for many years," she said, hoping to waylay his fear that she might be pampered and useless.

He nodded, "I know." Her eyes came quickly up to his face. How did he know? Had he been watching her? And ...if he had … "You're father told me," he finished and Belle sighed. Of course he had. That was likely something he had asked, and yet ...when had he spoken in private to her father? He had seemed to ask for her quite suddenly, as if only noticing her at that moment and making a hasty decision to see if he could acquire her. Now ...she looked at him in suspicion. She wasn't sure that was the case. He seemed awfully familiar with her. He had provided her with everything she would need, and all of it was in the correct size, right down to her undergarments. Perhaps this was simply how a house run on magic worked. Maybe it adjusted to the occupants, providing for their needs, but then ...she had to stop. This was her home now, this dark castle, and he was her master.

"What will my duties be?"

He looked up, seeming surprised, and then caught himself. "I will require very little. Tea in the afternoon, straw when I'm spinning at the wheel." This actually made her look up and around the room. Yes, there was a large spinning wheel on a raised platform at the far end of the room. It seemed a strange hobby for one so powerful, however it would explain the strength in his hands. "I would have you serve me my meals." Belle nodded and he held up a finger. "I would have you join me."

Belle had been nodding, but at this she stopped. "For ...join you ...for ...what?" She felt slightly nauseous and started to stand up. Her knee smacked into the underside of the table and caused the tea tray to tilt and a cup to slip off on to the floor. Belle cursed rather impressively, rubbing her knee until she reached down to grab the cup. It was broken. This was probably a tea set that was ancient and magical and she hand managed to break it in what ...less than an hour? She held the cup gently in her hands. "I'm so sorry. It's ...it's chipped. You ...you can barely see it."

"It's just a cup," he said, looking at her curiously, as if he couldn't quite figure out what she was upset about. She sighed, placing it back on the tray and hoping he would forget about it. "Meals," he continued, catching her off guard. "I would have you join me for meals." The relief must have shown on her face because he giggled and Belle laughed with him. What on earth had she thought he'd meant?

"Of course," she said. "I would like that."

Once again, he gave her that strange look, as if he simply didn't understand her at all. As if, perhaps, she was supposed to be horrified by the idea that they would take their meals together. He nodded, and then stood and walked over to his spinning wheel.

Belle looked at the overly laden table and figured it would be best to start clearing away all the left over food. She hoped they had a food pantry. It would be such a waste to throw out all that was left. She turned to ask him where the kitchen was and felt the slight tingle of magic wash over her skin. It was a sensation she had felt before, and she glanced back at the table. It was empty and clean. She turned back around and looked at the Dark One in frustration. "If you do everything for me, I won't have any duties left."

He glanced up. "The door is to the left of the cabinet on the far wall. The pantry is near the outer wall. I think you will find everything you need inside. I would not suggest you leave the castle."

"I'm not going to run away you know ..." she paused, "I don't even know your name. What am I to call you?"

His eyes traveled slowly over her face and then, "Rumplestiltskin. My name is Rumplestiltskin."


	26. The Power of a Name

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, waiting …what would she do now? Explode, yell, accuse, blame, throw her arms around him in joyful disbelief? Okay, not the last but he expected something. Had it been so long that she didn't know him anymore? No, he didn't believe that. He had put himself at a disadvantage by never revealing himself to her. He had never thought he would regret that decision, but when she nodded, and gazed at him with questions burning in her eyes, he didn't know what to say to her. She looked disappointed, confused, uncertain, and turned away to go to the kitchen. He watched her all the way across the room and out the door. His body went so limp with both relief and overwhelming sadness once she was out of sight that he nearly fell off the stool next to his spinning wheel. He simply couldn't keep this up, he was going to have a stroke ...and at his age it was unlikely he was going to survive, regardless of his immortality.

Every time he saw her he opened his mouth to tell her that he was the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, Rum, Bob ...all of them. And for some reason he could not begin to fathom, something else kept coming out instead. He had no idea why. She didn't seem find him repulsive, in fact she had shown a level of interest that had made his heart beat faster, and yet ...he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow she was going to reject him. Was he so frightened that she would turn away from him that he was willing to let her continue to walk away? No. Despite popular opinion, he was not a coward, not about this and not about her. He knew that the moment he confirmed what he could see she was already beginning to understand he would lose any control he had over the situation. At the moment she seemed unwilling to speak her mind because she didn't feel as if she really knew him, she was skittish. Once she knew ...she was going to want to know why he hadn't said anything the day before, why the ogres came so fast, why he took her away from her family, why he allowed Clemson to die. It was too much for him to deal with at once. In fact, he wasn't sure a time would ever come when he could deal with it.

He heard the door at the far end of the room open and she reappeared. His breath caught in his throat. She was simply stunning. He had not seen her in almost two years, and the difference between then, and now was breathtaking. She set a tea tray on the far end of the table and he stood, walking over and grabbing a cup off the tray. He looked down to grab the teapot and realized he was holding the cup she had chipped earlier in his hands. He watched her carefully as she came toward him, and backed away as she got so close he thought she was going to run in to him. She sat down on the table and turned her translucent eyes on him. "Why did you want me here?"

He sipped his tea and smirked, once again not saying what he really wanted. "The place was filthy."

"I think you were lonely," she said, considering him carefully. "Any man would be lonely."

He sighed. He wasn't a man anymore; hadn't been one for hundreds of years. "I'm not a man." He placed the teacup on the table and turned away from her. Did she know? And if she did, was she torturing him?

"Is that why you hide inside a cloak, Rumplestiltskin?" she asked softly. She knew. At least, she thought she knew, but she was uncertain.

He closed his eyes, fear hammering through his body. "I hide because I'm a monster, Belle."

He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her moving through the room toward him. She walked past him, looking at the mirror he had covered by a blanket. She had probably noticed that he did not own many, and every one that had come with the castle was covered. She pinned him with those beautiful eyes and smiled. "You are not a monster. You think your uglier than you are, that's why you have all the mirrors covered, isn't it?" She started toward the looking glass, reaching for the blanket that covered it. "Just look ..."

He moved quickly, catching her hand and grabbing her by the waist, pulling her back against him, keeping her from taking away the only thing that shielded his home from prying eyes. Belle gasped when he pressed flush against her. There was no doubt in her mind anymore. She knew those hands; knew their grip, knew their feel, knew them perhaps better than her own. He spoke with his lips against her ear. "There are more things that can be done with a mirror than simple reflection."

She leaned back against his chest, her voice was a murmur, but he heard her. "Rum."

His grip tightened and he closed his eyes. At least for this one moment he was at peace. Whatever came next, whatever she said, whatever charges she leveled at him, he knew he would always have this one perfect moment. "I have missed you, my Belle."

She turned in his arms. He started to release her; to step back, but she covered his hands with hers and smiled. There were no words that needed to be said. Her love shone out from that smile and engulfed him, filling his entire soul with warmth. She closed the distance between them and their lips came together in a kiss that said everything for them. Her hands slid off of his, up his arms and linked around his neck. He sighed and although he knew he probably shouldn't, although he knew that there were things between them that they should deal with, he buried a hand in her hair, brought the other to trail down the side of her neck and deepened the kiss.

It was furious, and desperate, filled with a need and longing that surprised them both. He felt her tongue slip tentatively into his mouth and when he used his own to caress her bottom lip instead of pulling away, she gasped and pressed against him; straining to be closer to him, needing ...wanting ...she had no idea. It was a splendid sort of pleasure/pain that erupted inside her and while she wasn't at all sure what she was doing, she was completely certain of one thing. She was not releasing this man, not now, not ever.

He stiffened slightly when her hands came up to his face. Gods, he had dreamed of this. Of feeling her warm hands on his skin, but he didn't know if she would welcome his strangeness. It was one thing to look upon him and think him unique. It was quite another to touch and feel the different textures and ridges that made up his skin. Her fingers trailed over his forehead, her lips never leaving his, not allowing for him to say anything or make any sort of protest. He wouldn't have been able to anyway; she had effectively rendered him speechless. She traced the planes of his cheeks, letting her fingers run over his face and never once did she pause except to explore a new area until she had learned every line, every ridge. He was completely lost, he had no words to go with the feelings flooding his body and so he pulled her closer, allowed himself to taste; to touch and leave his fears behind him, at least for now.

When he pulled away, she made a sound of frustration in her throat which changed quickly to a moan of pleasure as his lips found their way down her neck. When they came in to contact with the neckline of her dress he pushed the sleeve off her shoulder with annoyance, and then continued to kiss his way across her collarbone. Belle's hands moved over his shoulders and down his chest. She wanted to touch him everywhere at once, and she wanted to touch his skin. She was so completely out of her mind with desire that she couldn't manage to get the buttons on his shirt to work properly. It was endlessly frustrating; she pulled at it without much success and felt that warm, rumbling laughter bubble up in his chest.

She needed ...help. She pulled his head up and had every intention of telling him to remove that bothersome shirt but he kissed her again and she promptly forgot what she had been trying to do. They were like that for quite some time. Lost in each others arms, unable or unwilling to speak; afraid they would wake up if they did. He never became demanding, never attempted more that she was able to comfortably give, and Belle finally understood what the women she'd spoken to at home were talking about when they spoke about feeling their bodies tingle, and lights behind their eyes, the sheer pleasure one could take from another persons mouth. She had never dreamed it could be like this and she knew something came after, in fact, this man had explained to her that other things came after this, and she wanted them ...she wanted all of them but she had no idea how to make it clear to him. She didn't know what to do or say to encourage him to move past this stage. When she finally pushed his shirt open and pressed her hand against the skin of his chest, he pulled away and pressed his forehead against hers. She had managed to pull the shirt from his breeches and open it so she could look at him, touch him, taste him. He was breathing harshly, and his voice was raspy when he spoke. "Belle."

She wrapped an arm around his neck and used the other to pull his lips back to hers. She didn't want to stop now; she wasn't at all sure she could stop now. He cupped her face in his hands and this time the kiss was softer, more gentle, and still as all consuming as the last had been. He pulled away and tried again. "Sweetheart. Listen to me." Her hands buried themselves in his hair and he gasped. "Belle."

She stilled. Apparently he was not going to stop talking until he said whatever it was he needed to say. Her voice sounded so full of frustration laced with anticipation that he smiled. "Yes."

"Look at me."

Belle lifted her gaze away from his lips and met his eyes for the very first time without any shadows between them. No cloak, no hood, barely a shirt ...it was clinging to life but Belle had every intention of removing it as soon as humanly possible. His eyes were the sparkling solid black she had always seen inside the hood. She smiled. Apparently they did change according to his mood. That was useful knowledge. Her eyes left his and hungrily roamed his face, lingered on his chest, and finally fell on his hands. His soft, gentle hands that were still cupping her face. She realized she had never seen these hands before. They felt the same, but they looked different. There was a smattering of the raised golden skin across the top and she reached up to run her fingers over it. "How?"

"I hid them." His eyes looked away from her and he instinctively moved his head to allow his hair to fall into his face. This time, she did reach up and brush it away, revealing him to her once again.

"I understand." She covered his hands with her own, pulling them away from her face so she could grasp on to them. His palms were soft, where the tops were not. She remembered tracing the lines in his hands once before. "But you do not need to fear my reaction anymore. You are beautiful, Rumplestiltskin. Do you understand that? I love you. Gods, Rum, I have loved you for such a long time."

He reached up and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "Oh, sweetheart. I love you, too." He paused, leaned forward and kissed her softly. "I had forgotten what it meant to be loved. I still don't know that I am worthy of it."

Belle swallowed and shook her head slowly. "You were always worthy. Do you not understand that?"

His eyes traced over her face. "I guess I don't. There are so many things we need to talk about. So many things I have to tell you."

She raised her hand and covered his lips with her fingertips, and then with her own lips, silencing him. She paused only briefly. "Later."

He gave up. Nodding and abandoning sense and logic. It was simply not to be ...not today.


	27. A Brief Intermission

Rumplestiltskin sat in a large chair before the fireplace in the Great Room. He marveled, once again, at the woman curled in his lap. Her head lay against his shoulder, her breathing was steady and he simply didn't have the heart to wake her. At some point in the last several hours, they had made it to this chair. Which was fairly impressive given the rate at which she had been removing his clothing. He hadn't realized quite how far they'd managed to get until Belle began kissing things she shouldn't have access to.

It had taken every bit of willpower he possessed to slow them down, to pull away from searching hands and soft lips. She had been, understandably, irritated when he'd stopped. If she had been unable to control herself, or had ignored him completely, this day would have gone an entirely different direction. She didn't need to tknow that, however. His control where she was concerned was tenuous at best and there were things they had to talk about, things he needed to say to her, before they took the next step. Not that his body wasn't completely ready ...it was, but he refused to take her to his bed or, he mused, anywhere else in the castle, before she knew absolutely everything.

Gods knew, if he could avoid it, he would, but he knew in his heart that he could never give her all of himself, mind, body and soul, until his conscience was clear. And he did not want to be haunted by worry when it was time to abandon control and allow emotion and need to rule them. He knew he was taking a huge gamble. That she might be angry and walk away from him completely, but that was simply how it had to be. He loved her ...desperately, and while he had no idea how that was possible; how the two sides of his nature, the Dark One and the man, worked together, they did.

Belle stirred, shifted, kissed the side of his neck in her sleep, and became still again. She had fallen asleep while they were talking. Nothing really important, just soft whispers and assurances that this was only the beginning. She had been like a ping pong ball since she'd arrived. Thinking one moment that he was so familiar he must be her Rum, and the next not believing herself. He had not been the only one struggling these last days. She had been exhausted and now, finally, she could sleep. He hadn't realized how draining the past few days had been on Belle.

He sighed. He really should take her to her chambers and leave her to sleep. On the other hand, he might never leave the room if he did that. He was holding on by a thread. Rumplestiltskin shook his head and stood with Belle in his arms. He was being ridiculous. He was a grown man who had lived not one lifetime, but several, and this slip of a girl had completely taken over every facet of his world. He did nothing without considering it's effect on Belle. Even with the ogres he had been trying to rid himself of Gaston without having to kill the boy. He knew that Belle would prefer he didn't; he could not foresee that young Clemson would not survive. Had he known, had he been able to see that future, he would have tried to find another way. But that was not what had happened. Clemson had died, Gaston still lived, and it was his fault. He had to own up to that, perhaps more than anything else, and hope that Belle could find it in her to forgive him.

She seemed to weigh nothing and he gazed down at her. Had she been eating enough? Okay, granted, she'd been here 48 hours, but still, he could worry if it took his mind off of what he was doing: Carrying the woman he loved, the woman he would happily die for, in his arms with her curled half-naked against his chest, her breath on his neck, to her ...bedroom. If she woke up ...he shook off the thought. She wouldn't.

He walked slowly, carefully, and opened the door to her chambers with magic. The fire erupted in the hearth when they came in, but there was still quite a chill to the air. He raised the temperature and carried her to her bed. The dress she had been wearing was beyond disheveled. He actually hadn't noticed until just this moment how much damage he'd done to it. He smirked. His shirt was laying in tatters on the floor of the Great Room. Quid pro quo and all that. He actually stood there wondering what he should do for several minutes. Should he take the dress off? It wasn't like he hadn't explored a great portion of her earlier. Then again, the temptation that came with removing her clothing might be more than he could possibly stand. Well, he couldn't leave her like this. He laid her on the bed and gently pulled what was left of the dress from her waist and over her legs. He had to stop about four times before he finally got it off. This was going to kill him. He actually sighed when he finally had it off, pulled the bed-linens over her body and turned to leave.

He didn't make it one step. Her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Her voice was heavy with sleep. "Where are you going?"

"My chambers. So you can sleep."

She opened one sapphire eye and looked up at him. "Can't sleep if you're not here."

Rumplestiltskin smiled. "Yes, you can. You'll be back asleep before you know it."

She tugged at his arm. "Please shut up and come to bed." Her eye closed, and she snuggled down under the covers. He didn't leave, but he didn't join her either. When several minutes had passed, he heard her sigh, and the one eye opened again to look at him with irritation. "To sleep, Rum. Come to bed. I need you next to me or I find it difficult to sleep." She paused for a moment, seeing his jaw working, seeing his indecision and finally added, "Please. I'm not just saying that. I've slept poorly since I got here."

And that decided it. He walked around to the other side of the bed, passed a hand over his body, and climbed in next to her. Belle rolled over and curled up against his chest again. "What are you wearing?"

"Nightclothes," he said. "Why?"

Belle sighed heavily, giving up on sleep for the moment and sat up. The blanket fell to her waist and he closed his eyes in desperation. When had she become this comfortable with her nudity ...around him? She shook her head and ran her fingers through his hair so she could pull his eyes back to hers. "Is this what you generally wear to bed?" He had on a full set of black silk pajamas, long sleeves and long pants, and while he looked quite nice in black silk, Belle knew instinctively he had created them specifically for her. When he shook his head, she laughed triumphantly. "What do you wear?"

He dropped his head, his hair falling in to his face and Belle brushed it back so she could see his eyes. She was going to have to break him of that habit. His eyes were solid black, no pupil discernible at all. Now that she'd had the time to study him, granted a limited study, she knew exactly what that solid black indicated. She remained silent until he admitted what she already strongly suspected. "Nothing."

Belle reached out and ran her fingers over his face. She didn't think she would ever tire of touching him. She had waited so long for this, for him. She knew he didn't really understand yet. Couldn't see that from now until ...forever, she was his. She had always been his. "Is that going to make sleeping a problem?"

"This is ridiculous isn't it?" When she nodded, he sighed and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was in basically the same position but this time, when her head pillowed on his chest, it was bare. Belle ran her hand from his stomach to his neck and he grasped it, holding it against his skin, over his heart, wondering if there was any way in the world he was actually going to sleep now. "There are things we need to ..."

"Talk about," she finished for him. "Yes, I know. You've told me. Close your eyes, Rum." She brought her other hand up and ran her fingers lightly over his eyelids.

His eyes closed, and the sensations overwhelmed him. The feel of her body pressed against his. The hand he hand captured and was holding against his chest. The light weight of her head, the tickling of her hair, the smell of her skin …Rumplestiltskin drifted off to sleep on a wave of happiness. If this was a dream, he had no desire to wake. Ever.

Beside him, Belle watched as his breathing became more regular and his features relaxed into sleep. She had known how exhausted he was. She was just as tired. Him trying to figure out how to tell her he was ...well, him. And she constantly wondering if this man, the Dark One, was her Rum or not. Of course, she had been almost positive when he'd said his name. It actually wasn't that his full name started with 'Rum' as that could have been a coincidence, it was that he gave her his full name at all. She thought back on all the times he had told her that in magic, names had a great deal of power. That he would offer it, without much in the way of resisting the question, told her all she needed to know. She smiled, moved as close as she could to him, draped a leg over his and drifted off as well.

She knew that tomorrow they would have to deal with whatever it was he was so desperate for her to know, but she felt no angst, no fear, no worry about what he was going to tell her. She was here now. She was his. And she wasn't going anywhere ever again.


	28. Only a Man

When she woke the next morning to find herself tangled with Rumplestiltskin who had, somehow, in the night, managed to roll on to his side and wrap his arms and legs around her, she started smiling and wasn't at all sure she could find it in her to stop. She stared at his face, letting her eyes follow all the textures and contours; wondering if those ridges extended to the rest of his body. She was much too fascinated with his body for it to be normal, or currently, healthy. He was going to drive her to madness.

Belle knew he had been cursed, and that his appearance was a result of a great deal of dark magic being forced into his body at once. He'd told her that with the exception of the appearance of aging, his teeth staining and his eyes changing, he had basically looked the same just after the curse had taken hold of him. That he allowed himself to become fascinated with the power that came with that magic. That he had wallowed in the darkness and allowed it to consume him, that was what had really changed him. He had been called a coward his entire life and suddenly, people were afraid of him. He was a perfect example of absolute power corrupting absolutely. Looking at him now, however, relaxed in sleep, she could see the man he must have been under the uniquely textured skin. No matter how many times he said he was not ...he was just a man.

He didn't see what she saw. The very first time she'd seen him at Avonlea Castle, she'd thought him ...not ugly, as she had so often been told in her childhood, but strange ...unique, and somehow, startlingly beautiful. It was the gold in his skin tone catching the light just right; it made his body glow, almost god-like, ethereal. It was the curly, soft brown hair that was all too human. It was those beautiful golden eyes that watched her as if she were a precious treasure that he didn't deserve but had somehow been fortunate enough to receive anyway. It was the way those golden eyes darkened to solid black only when he was with her. Looking at her. She had never really noticed before, and with good cause. She'd never known who he was and had only a couple of years ago been able to see his eyes. Intellectually, she could understand his fear of showing himself to her when she was a child. She had heard stories about the Dark One, as if he were a boogeyman who would steal her out of her bed. Then again, her mother had told her those stories, so it wasn't surprising that she put little importance on them.

Belle was so deep in thought she didn't notice when he woke up until he started trailing his fingers over her arm. She gasped at looked back at his face. He was smiling, his eyes half-lidded, sleepy, but sparkling, happy. Solid black. "Hey."

She could feel the smile that filled her face. "Hey."

They were like that for some time. Not talking, simply staring at one another, unwilling to move. They, neither one of them, wanted to face this day. Did it need to be done? Yes. Clearly Rumplestiltskin had something on his mind that he didn't feel could wait, and Belle wanted to know what would bother him so deeply. She couldn't begin to fathom what he could have done that would make him feel she might be angry enough to walk away, but she was willing to listen.

He sighed and untangled their limbs so he could roll on to his back. Belle curled up at his side and put her head on his chest. "Is it really as bad as all that?"

 

He lifted his arm, wrapped it around her, and pulled her closer. "I don't honestly know, but it needs to be said." He sat up, leaned over, kissed her gently and threw back the covers. "After breakfast?"

Belle didn't answer and he turned to look at her. She was staring and he quickly threw the bedclothes back over his lap. Belle was grinning like the Cheshire Cat and he was suddenly exceptionally grateful for the greenish gray color of his skin. The blush didn't show through. He couldn't even remember the last time he had blushed. He was so used to sleeping nude, he hadn't really given it a thought. He shook his head. If this was to be a regular occurrence ...he considered that for a moment and realized it wouldn't be. Last night was the exception. They needed comfort, they were both exhausted, the nudity had been secondary to being together. Next time ...it wouldn't be.

He looked at Belle who was still watching him with extreme interest and sighed. She laughed, laid back and covered her head with a pillow. "Fine, I won't look. Go. Dress. I'll meet you downstairs."

And as much as he desperately wanted to crawl back in bed, forget everything, and ravish her properly, he got up, magicked on some clothes, and left her to get up. He had always known this day would come, he hoped, he prayed, he'd do just about anything to know that this day would not be his last one with Belle.

#

They ate mostly in silence. Belle watched him as he picked at his toast. She honestly didn't want this to last any longer than it had to. "Why don't you just say everything at once and we can go from there."

He glanced up and realized she was serious. "Are you sure? Belle, I don't want to lose you over anything I've done in the past. No matter my intentions at the time."

"Again, I say, just go and when you get finished, I'll ask if I have questions. Does that seem fair. I won't walk out, I won't even get up, Rum." She pinned him with her soft eyes and his own looked down at the table, but he nodded.

"You know I'm not a good person," he said, and while her first instinct was to interrupt and correct him, she stayed true to her word and remained silent. When he realized she was really going to let him say everything, he continued. "I've been a dark wizard, sorcerer, whatever, for hundreds of years. I've killed people for no reason other than that they accidentally hurt my son, or intentionally hurt my son, or overheard things not meant for their ears." He sighed. "More recently I made a deal with Lord Avonlea." At this Belle's head came up. He had her attention now. "The borders of King George's territory were being threatened by the ogres, you probably remember that." Still, she said nothing. "It was the day you saw me, the day Gaston ..." he paused, looking at her. She nodded. Yes, she remembered that day clearly. "That day I was trying to get Gaston away from you. I made a deal with Lord Avonlea to push the ogres back to the North, beyond the mountain pass that leads to the Midlands, in return, Gaston would enter the service of King George and help Prince James kill that dragon."

He paused for a moment. So far, she didn't look horrified, of course, he'd just started. "I didn't expect George to return the knights to their homelands. I also did not want Gaston anywhere near you. Belle, I would have killed him. Had he laid a hand on you, had I been here, I would have killed him. Do you know of the Queen, Regina?" When Belle nodded, he pressed on. "That's where I went this last year and a half. Dealing with her is quite ...time consuming. I had no idea it would take that long, but when you have eternity, you tend to trivialize time. Please understand that I did not want to kill Gaston and I would have. I didn't want him anywhere near you after what he did." He stopped for a moment and gave her a sad smile. "I honestly wish I had ...now."

Belle's mind was racing. He had known that she preferred he did not kill Gaston. He was juvenile, and impatient, and could be violent, but so long as he never touched her again, because he honestly made her skin crawl, she didn't want Rum corrupting his soul anymore than he already had. She could avoid Gaston, at least, she'd believed she could. She'd have put off their marriage forever had he not been called to fight ...her mind stopped. She felt suddenly nauseous.

He continued. "I made a deal with Regina to clear the pass. To let the ogres get through faster. To push the war forward several years. And when it looked like Midas' men were going to stop them, I made a deal to get them past Midas' forces, onto King George's land, past the Midland line. I knew that Gaston would be called to fight." He stopped for a moment, took a breath, and finished. "I forgot about Clemson, Belle. I am so sorry. I thought only of getting Gaston away from you. Clemson's death was my fault."

Rumplestiltskin stopped, not daring to raise his eyes to hers. He did not want to see the anger there. Belle was silent for several minutes and he was absolutely certain if she didn't say something soon he was going to explode. On the bright side, then he wouldn't have to deal with her rage.

He felt her fingers combing through his hair first. They tucked the hair behind his ear, trailed down his cheek to his chin and pulled his head up. When their eyes met he saw many things; confusion, sadness, loss, pity, but not anger. Not rage. She sat there for so long that he began to fidget. She didn't look angry, but ...gods why didn't she say anything?

Belle attempted to take in everything he had just told her. From the visit to Lord Avonlea to the final deal with Regina. She had to order everything properly in her mind before she could ask him anything. She could see he was getting nervous. She could see the fear filling his eyes, which had returned to black with a splash of gold. Reptilian. Foreign. It was what he looked like when he was nervous, she realized. Or afraid. And while she didn't see the Dark One fearing very much, she knew he had been afraid when he spoke to Lord Avonlea. Not for himself, but for her. Even back then, when he still denied any feelings he might have that were not strictly paternal, he wanted nothing more than for her to be safe. How did she fault him for that? How did he begin to believe she would fault him for that? Had he killed Gaston in cold blood, rather than trying to find another way, then ...then she would have been angry, but not this.

"Rum, did you intend for Clemson to die?" she asked softly.

His face tightened with sadness; with loss. He had actually like Clemson and it had hurt him when he'd been killed. That he blamed himself made it so much worse. "No. No, I did not ..." he paused. "I didn't even think of the fact that he was also a knight of Lord Avonlea. I should have."

She nodded. "Yes, maybe you should have. Did you know Clemson?"

He shook his head. "Not well. I met him that day in your sitting room."

"So while you were making this deal with the Queen. You had no reason to think of Clemson, as you didn't really know him. Right?"

Rumplestiltskin nodded slowly. "I suppose that is accurate, yes."

"And your intention was to send Gaston off to war ...for what reason?"

He considered this for a moment. "I thought only to get him away from Northland Castle long enough for you to come of age and refuse to marry him."

"Did you intend for Gaston to be killed?" she asked gently.

Again, he considered. He wasn't going to lie to her. Not now. "Intend? No. He's a capable enough soldier. Hoped ..." he paused, sighed, and then, "Yes. I hoped."

A slight smile crossed her lips but it did not reach her eyes. "I don't suppose I blame you for that. You once told me that if you had to you would kidnap me and take me far away from him. Why did you not do that?"

He knew the answer, but as she was now sitting in his castle, he really didn't want to admit it. "I did not wish you to be separated from your family; your friends."

"And yet, I am," she said, her voice serious, but still ...not angry.

"You are," he agreed.

Belle reached out an took his hand. Turning it over, she trailed her finger over the lines in his palm, as she had so many years ago. "The ogres were going to come back, were they not?"

He nodded. "Eventually. I find it is always a mistake to obliterate an entire species, as Lord Avonlea requested."

"But it was inevitable," she said. It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. "Then I am grateful."

Rumplestiltskin could not have been more surprised if she'd slapped him. He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Grateful? That I wished your fiance dead, that I brought on a war that should not have happened for several years, that I got your friend killed ...you're grateful?"

She heard his chair scrape on the wood floor as he got up and walked toward the fireplace. Belle rose and followed him. She wrapped her arms around him from behind. "I am devastated by the loss of Clemson, Rum. It still hurts ...even now." She felt him take a breath, almost as if he were trying to prevent tears at causing her pain. "But I am grateful that he and Lydia never married. That they didn't have small children when the ogres finally did come. If he was destined to die fighting that war, he was going to die ...now, or three years from now and as much as I hate it, as much as I believe Lydia would disagree with me, I truly believe she might be able to find someone else now. If she had several small children, it would be impossible."

He turned around, gazing at her in wonder. "You're not angry?"

She considered. "At you? No. A little hurt, I guess, that you didn't tell me what you planned to do. But no, not angry. It is Gaston who put this all in to motion. He knew better, Rum." Rumplestiltskin dropped his head so his hair would hide his face and Belle made a frustrated noise, pushing it back. "He attacked me. I am guessing, by what you've just told me, that he is lucky to be alive at all."

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "He is. I wanted more than anything to kill him that night, Belle. More than you, more than anything at all."

"And yet, you spared him because you knew that I did not wish it. You even asked me. Do you remember? You asked me if I would have him dead and when I said no, you took me home. Had I said yes that night, none of this would have happened," she said, looking into his eyes.

"This is not your fault. You did what you thought was right," he said and Belle raised an eyebrow. He smiled sadly. "No, Belle, do not assume I thought what I was doing was good or right by any stretch. What I did was completely selfish. I am, by nature, a violent monster and what I did ...I would have sacrificed every knight in the realm if it meant keeping you away from that bastard. I didn't care who died, Belle. Do you not see that? I still don't care. You're here, with me, I have what I wanted and somewhere inside me, that is all that matters."

Belle knew not to shrug this off or take it lightly. It would not do him any favors to deny who he was, however, it would not harm him to remind him who he had been. "You are not a monster. I will not have you thinking that about yourself. You have never been anything but kind and loving to me. Why is that? If you are such a self-serving man, why did you ever think to befriend me?"

He almost smiled. "I saw you. You were seven years-old and you had just lost your mother. You were facing a life of uncertainty, and yet you were so strong. I admired that courage and I wanted to protect you. I could completely relate to losing someone you love that way. To have them walk away without care for those they leave behind. I would not see you hurt like that again, and yet ...I could not protect you from Gaston, I could not save you the pain of Clemson's death, as I could not prevent your pain when your mother walked away."

"Why?" she asked.

He looked at her with confusion. "I don't understand."

"Why couldn't you, the dark wizard, the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin himself, manage to protect me from those things?"

"Because I ..." he stopped, and then his face broke into a genuine smile. "I'm only a man."


	29. Apprentice

Rumplestiltskin stood there, his mind in turmoil. Despite all the power he had, despite all the magic he could wield, despite all the fear his presence inspired, Belle had managed to see what he, himself had not. He was, in fact, only a man. He was not perfect, far from being a saint, not all-powerful, but a man. With all the frailties, insecurities and limits that came with the designation. Why had he never seen that before? He supposed he hadn't wanted to think himself vulnerable; to anything ...or, he smiled at Belle, anyone.

After Milah had walked away from he and Bae, after enduring the pain of a life long belief that he was a coward, after he had killed her in a fit of rage, which he did not regret even to this day, he did not believe himself either worthy or capable of love. What had he told Regina so many years ago? Love was weakness. And yet here he was ...in love. And that love gave him more strength that he had ever realized was possible. He had assumed she would be angry, he had assumed she would, given a reason, walk away from him forever, and yet, she had picked apart his confession, unwilling to let him wallow in guilt. He didn't deserve her. He somehow doubted he ever would.

Belle had been watching him in silence. Allowing him to absorb everything he had just discovered. He was a man. An immortal, extremely powerful, sometimes callous and unfeeling man, but nevertheless, still a man. It was a huge step for him, she knew, for in admitting he did not have absolute control over everything, he became an entirely different person. Someone who could now, perhaps, remember that he would make mistakes, bad judgments, cause her pain; as she would do to him eventually, and that it was okay for those things to happen, so long as they always talked and remained honest to one another.

She fidgeted. Now that this 'conversation' was over and resolved, now that he realized she was here to stay regardless of his personal demons, she wanted to know him. Not simply physically, although that was at the forefront of her mind ...constantly, but all of him. From the kind, loving soul she had always known, to the very depths of his magic. He had told her once that she had a natural affinity for magic, and using the ring, she had found that he was right. She was able to hold and control a field of energy to protect herself, but there was more she'd discovered during his absence and she had found that she wanted to learn as much as she could.

He was watching her with curiosity. She supposed her indecision about bringing up this particular subject was all over her face. "What?" he finally said, as if he feared the answer.

Belle decided that being straight forward was generally best. "I want to learn magic." Rumplestiltskin said nothing; stunned in to silence, so she kept on. "If this is to be my home, and you and I are to be together, I want no secrets between us. Not ever. I know one side of you already. I know a kindhearted soul up took it upon himself to befriend a little girl who would otherwise have been lost, but there is more to you than that." She considered stopping there when she saw the 'oh hell no' look on his face, but pushed. "Rum, you said I had an affinity for magic. You saw it when I manipulated the magic in the ring. I know that this may not appeal to you, but I want to learn. As much as I'm able. I understand that there are some things you will not teach me. Things so dark you would die rather than have me near them, and I understand that, but like with the ring, there are things you can teach me. And wouldn't you rather I learn them properly than try to do it on my own?"

She could see that her last sentence had gotten to him as she had intended. He took a step back from her considering her face. "Why?"

It was a fair question that she countered with one of her own. "Is this to be my home now?"

"Do you wish to stay here?" he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer, but grateful for the subject change.

She didn't pause for a moment. "Forever."

He lapsed back into his high-pitched Rumplestiltskin lilt. "Forever is a long time, dearie."

Belle was not amused. "First ...never call me dearie. I'm not one of your deals ..." she paused. "Okay, well, I was, but it doesn't count. Second, I have no desire to be parted from you. Not ever again."

With that, his voice dropped back to the usual hoarse accent he seemed to reserve specifically for her. "I don't want to teach you magic, Belle. It has the tendency to corrupt even the most pure soul. I would not wish that on you."

"Then you will not teach me those things you deem unsafe. Look, Rum, I understand it's a dangerous path. Something I know very little about. But if I am to stay and be your ..." she stopped. She'd almost said it ...had come so close that she was sweating. She could not begin to think he would ever ask her to be that. Friend, lover (hopefully), confidant, apprentice (maybe) ...yes. Wife? She didn't see it. Not that she didn't want it, but he had been hurt far too many times to be willing to bind himself to yet another person he still believed would one day walk away. It didn't matter that she would never do that to him, especially after what he'd told her, but it was not something one could say. You had to be willing to show. And she would. Perhaps after a few years he would understand. Okay, well, maybe after several decades he would understand. Centuries of loss was a hard thing to break down. "If I am to be your apprentice ..." she saw him flinch when she said the word and quickly revised. "Student. If you will allow it, you can show me how to conduct myself, not only in the main part of the castle, but everywhere. What if I were to find your work room when you were not here? I know you must have one."

He shrugged. "The door would not open."

"Yes, and that wouldn't piss me off at all," she said, with some humor, but not a great deal. "We must not hide any part of our lives from one another. Goddammit, Rum, I am a very intelligent person. Do you not think I know what is good and bad?"

He stepped forward, pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. "You are exceptional in every way, Belle. You always have been. I simply fear for you." She started to protest, but he stopped her. "I understand your desire to learn. You have always been like this. Even when you were a child and I know, should you go to my lab without me for some reason, you might get in to something that I could not save you from. Given that ...I will teach you. You must understand that all magic has a price. It doesn't matter how large the spell, it will still takes it's due. Do you understand that?"

When she nodded, he propped his chin on her head and tucked her into his body. She fit so perfectly there, as if she had been designed specifically for him. He smiled. Perhaps she had. He lifted his head so she would look up at him and then kissed her with all the pent up emotions of earlier in the day. He'd not properly thanked her for her forgiveness. She had valid points, but he couldn't help but feel that he was at fault. He and his magic.

She opened to him and his brain turned to mush, tasting, touching, feeling ...everything. She responded with a deep hunger he hadn't realized was there. Gods how he wanted her. All of her. To touch every part of her body, followed by tasting, but not now ...not yet. He settled instead on plunging his tongue into her mouth, causing her to gasp with pleasure. Her hands roamed up his back, through his hair, to his face. He would never understand the fascination she seemed to have with his skin. When her hands drifted lower, pulling his silk shirt out of his breeches and running underneath to press against his skin, he nearly lost every bit of will-power he had.

He pulled away and Belle groaned. They were both breathing heavily. "Can we possibly not destroy at least one of my shirts?" he said, trying and failing to make a joke.

Belle's eyes were smoldering. "Then take it off."

Rumplestiltskin knew he was losing this fight. It actually took him several minutes to remember what it was he was fighting for. She was still very young. And while in these times, him bedding this girl would cause no alarm at all, he had once told her that it was for her husband to take her virtue, and no one else. He still believed that. He might be a dark, corrupted, monst ...man, but he had some values. Besides, Belle deserved the very best of everything. Not a quick fuck on the rug in front of the fireplace. His voice was shaky when he spoke. "Let me show you where the lab is."

She sighed, but followed when he turned and walked past what, for all the world looked like Thor's Hammer, moved a tapestry and opened a door hidden behind. He lit a torch just inside and Belle could smell earth. Were they under the castle? With the light of the torch to guide them, he led her through passage, after passage until they came to an enormous wood door. He said something under his breath and Belle watched in astonishment as it swung open. He ushered her in, so close behind her that she could feel the warmth of his body.

The moment was so much like being in the secret passage with Gaston, that Belle started to panic. The smell of the earth invaded her senses, the feeling of a man close behind her made her heart beat faster, the flickering of the torch, the shadows, the feeling of being trapped, all contributed to her fear. She turned, pushing at him, trying to get past and back out the door, and when his hand wrapped around her wrist, she screamed ...screamed as she had not last time. Strong arms came around her and she struggled against them until a voice penetrated the all consuming fear. "Belle! It's Rum! Belle! It's me, it's Rum. I won't hurt you. Not ever. I love you." It was his final words that caused her to pause, even if only for a moment. She felt the wiry, taunt muscles; smelled the unique fragrance of his skin, felt his soft, gentle hands stroking her hair, heard his gentle accent telling her it was okay to be afraid. It took several very long minutes before she relaxed into his arms. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "No. Stay with me. Please? Please, don't leave me alone."

Rumplestiltskin leaned down to touch his lips to hers. "I will never leave you again, my Belle."

"I know you have to go and make your deals, Rum." She was sniffling, her voice heavy. The panic attack had taken all of her energy.

"I do. You are correct. But should I have to leave, Belle ..." He looked into her eyes. "I will take you with me."

Belle appreciated the gesture, but honestly, what business did she have interfering with his deals? "It's okay, Rum. I would be a burden."

He grinned. "Not if you learn some magic, my Belle." He took her face in between his hands. "You can be my secret weapon."


	30. A Night of Magic

Belle stood in her chambers considering her current attire. She knew that Rumplestiltskin wore heavy leathers and dragon skin to intimidate, but he had also told her that they were nearly immune to potions that might spill and burn through what he was wearing. It was a safety precaution. She could understand that, but what she was wearing was not going to be very safe should she make mistakes in her lessons, which she had no doubt, even with his guiding hand, would happen.

It was on the heels of this thought that she found herself, several hours later, standing in front of one of his many covered mirrors, staring at herself in wonder. She knew that the looking glass was dangerous, so she didn't take very long. She checked to be sure it fit, and recovered the mirror. She had started altering some of her own clothing, but realizing that was not going to be either strong or durable enough for what she had planned, she resorted to grabbing the laundry she'd done for him during the day. Rum had gone to his chambers to get some of his nightclothes as he was adamant they not sleep naked together for the time being, which she found endlessly frustrating on several levels, some of which she didn't even understand. But so long as he was willing to stay with her, she would wait for as long as he deemed it necessary. She had intended to surprise him with a clean set of breeches, since she had torn his shirt to shreds yesterday, but when she saw he had left not only leathers, but also a shirt and vest, she realized he had left them for her. To remind her that this was his room too; that good to his word, he would not leave her alone. He could have used magic to remove them, and he had not.

His leathers had been too long, so she had shortened them until they tucked neatly into a pair of over the knee boots she assumed he'd either bought or created and meant to give her at some point since they fit rather well. She had altered his shirt, allowing for the silk to cover her, trying not to get lost in the fact that it smelled so much like him. That earthy scent, touched with something she never could identify and assumed was just unique to him. She used the vest to cover the shirt, removing the buttons and lacing it with black cord and the remaining leather had been made into sheaths that would cover both her arms. She held his yellow, lacy scarf in one hand. She'd been debating whether to wear it for about ten minutes. Finally she tied it around her neck and turned around to go find Rum, as he had been gone for quite some time.

He was standing there. His face a mixture of confusion, irritation and immense pleasure. "What are you doing?" He was staring at her with such attention, it was making her uncomfortable. Rumplestiltskin was at a loss. She was ...she ...he didn't have words for the stunning beauty standing before him. He'd never seen her (in other clothes) without a dress, and he couldn't begin to express how amazing she looked. Dangerous, deadly, her eyes sparking with defiance, challenging him to complain that she had used his clothes to make something suitable to studying magic. He had not one complaint save that she was going to have to change or he was ...this was too much. He was, as they had ascertained this morning, only a man. How was he supposed to let her remove those clothes? He didn't think he could.

Belle said nothing. Did she look silly? She was so used to gowns and dresses ...she sighed. She should have known this would be a mistake. She had just wanted him to realize she was serious. Belle composed herself. "I couldn't practice magic in that .." she motioned at her old, blue dress, "could I? Gods, I look ridiculous, don't I? If you'll give me a moment, I'll take it off."

When he didn't say anything else, she shook her head and moved to walk around him. She almost made it. She was about two steps from the door when his arm reached out and caught her around the waist. "Are those my clothes?"

Belle brought her eyes up to his; defiant. "Not anymore."

He pulled the scarf off her neck with nimble fingers, letting his fingernails trail along her collarbone. "This," he said, his voice deeper than she'd ever heard it before, more accented. "This is definitely mine."

Belle would have protested if the feeling of his fingers on her skin wasn't causing her to become temporarily mute. He moved around her, pulling the scarf through his fingers. "In fact .." he reached the top of her shirt. "This is mine too." He appreciated the fact that she had removed the buttons in favor of a black cord. Very practical. Very easy to remove. Which he did.

Her skin was scorching hot; her mind, blank, as he continued to walk around her in a circle. He stopped long enough to place a kiss between her breasts, pulling the thin cord the rest of the way out until the shirt she had made was gaping open. She gasped, clutching his shoulders. She thought she saw him smile, but it was hard to tell with …

When his mouth covered one nipple, she forgot everything. All that had happened up to this moment in the last day was inconsequential to this. To feeling him against her. She pulled at his vest. Damn, why did he wear this thing? After pulling frantically for a moment she found the buttons lower down. In any other situation, she would have been embarrassed. Right now? She wanted it off. His fingers had not stopped roaming. Pushing the shirt she had spent so much time making off her shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. She did the same with his vest, reaching for the buttons of his soft shirt.

Buttons ...Belle decided, had been invented by demons, and as she tugged at them she felt his soft, rumbling laugh build in his chest. She stopped for barely a moment to access the situation and finally gave up and ripped the shirt open, letting the damn buttons fly where they may.

Rumplestiltskin was shocked into silence. He had intended this to be gentle, allowing her whatever she needed to make it special. That ...he realized, was not going to happen. His breath was coming in gusts, harsh, he did not have the patience if she was going to, literally, rip his clothes off.

She looked up at him, unsure what was going to happen, but unable to stop now that she'd begun. Fire built in her center, and her mind shut off. She needed him. Whatever it was that came 'after', when two people lay together, as he had once told her, she wanted that ...and she was not about to let him get away from her this time. He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. It was soft, gentle, and over far too quickly. She pulled away from his mouth to brush her lips against his chest, his nipples, up his neck, to his ear.

Her breath against his body was all it took. He was gone, done, finished, no longer able to control himself where Belle was concerned. It was a miracle he'd lasted this long. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest and feeling her body press against him. His need was absolutely clear. He could only hope hers was as acute. He backed her against the bed until her knees hit the edge causing her to overbalance and fall backwards.

He knelt and pulled her boots off; then her leathers, and stared in dumbstruck wonder. "I don't want to hurt .."

Belle sat up, pulled his breeches open and wrapped her hand around his length. It was not textured as the rest of him, but soft and hard at the same time. She was fascinated and continued to rub and stroke him until she realized he was making soft noises of pleasure and need. She had no idea what she was doing, but given the noises he was making, it seemed she was not hurting him ...physically. "Please, Rum. I want all of you."

He gasped, both at her searching hands and the use of a nickname she'd been using for years. It had never before sounded like that. He couldn't wait, he needed her, he wanted her, had always wanted her. He grabbed her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the bed and wrapped his hand around hers, showing her how to guide his body into hers. There was a brief moment when she cried out that he stopped, afraid, but Belle grabbed his shoulders, pulled him toward her and kissed him, drowning out the cries until he had pushed completely inside her. Waiting was torture. He was allowing for her body to get used to him being there. She wrapped her legs around his waist, the dual feelings of him inside her and his leathers touching her everywhere else was almost too much.

She paused to wonder if this was all there was to it. It was nice and everything but ...oh ...oh, my …

He started moving, pulling out part of the way, pushing back in, slowly at first as to make sure she was not feeling any pain. Had she been able to speak at all, she could have told him, she opted instead to pull open the button on his leathers and push at them insistently. If she was going to have him ...well, she did have him, she wanted to feel every inch of his body pressed to hers. He made an impatient noise in the back of his throat and when he pulled out, she felt ...strange, abandoned, lonely. It took him only a few seconds to remove his leathers and he was back again.

He pulled her further up on the bed, moving over her and she eagerly guided him back to her most tender place. He groaned, pressing in to her, feeling her body tighten around his, marveling in the fact that she was there, with him, a part of him, his soul, his heart ...his everything.

Belle could feel something inside her, something that was both pleasure and pain, it was, at the moment, more painful until he thrust back inside her, then the feeling would ebb for a moment until he pulled back again. It was maddening. She didn't know how to stop it ...she wasn't even sure she wanted to. Her breathing was hard, fast ...she wanted ...gods she wanted. "Rum, please."

He lowered his head, unable to say anything at all, they found a rhythm and Belle thrashed under him until he grabbed her hips, slowing her movements, quickening his own. His hand slipped down between them and she cried out when he moved a finger over her, pressing, rubbing, stroking. Something inside Belle broke and she cried out again, holding on to him, unsure what to do with a body that was shaking and shivering. Waves of pleasure washed over her as his thrusts became erratic. She heard him groan and then he collapsed on top of her, unable to hold himself up. She didn't mind. The feeling of his weight, of his body, of him ...it was all a part of the moment.

She had no idea if he was going to regret their union. He had said it was for her husband to take and she worried that he might be remorseful. She wasn't sure she could handle that. If he regretted this, if he regretted them, even for a moment, she thought she might never recover. He finally rolled away and she felt his loss acutely, rolling with him so she was curled to his side. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close to him, and turned to look at her, his eyes black. "You can keep the scarf," he said, wrapping it around her neck.

Belle had a moment of absolute relief. "I love you, Rum."

He propped up on one elbow and looked down at her. "And I love you." He paused, unsure and Belle almost panicked. "Are you okay? Did I ...I honestly meant to be ...more ...gods, Belle, I should have been gentle."

She smiled. Her body felt heavy, relaxed, slightly sore, but she knew that was to be expected. "I'm fine, Rum." He did not look convinced. "That was ...I mean ...I've never felt so ..." She didn't have the words to explain. Being one with him, sharing with him this moment in her life, she wouldn't have it any other way. "I ...I never wanted to lay with anyone else."

He leaned over and kissed her gently. "Next time it will be ...more ..."

Belle grinned. "There's more?"

"Oh, sweetheart. So much more. But that is not what I meant." He stroked her, trailed his fingers up her arm and toyed with the scarf around her neck. Belle felt the heat begin to fill her again. Was that even possible? That she hungered for him again ...so soon? She ran a hand over his stomach, lower, and he reached down to stop her searching hand. "As much as that thought appeals to me. I think it best to wait …at least for a few hours."

Belle stopped roaming his body with her hands, but leaned forward to kiss him. There was nothing gentle about it. Deep, hard, tongues tasting, searching, touching. She wanted him to know that she was going to hold him to that promise. In fact, if the feeling inside her intensified, a few hours might be impossible. When they broke away, their limbs tangled together, he laughed. "I've created a monster."

"Is that bad?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, most certainly not, however, it would appear, as I have now completely debauched you, I will need to make you an honest woman soon." He didn't give her the chance to ponder that thought, but kissed her again, letting the night pass away without care for what would need to be done come the morning.


	31. Training Begins

Rumplestiltskin was having trouble concentrating. He understood the need for Belle to wear leathers, and arm guards and ...that shirt, but he could not seem to keep his mind on the potion he was attempting to teach her. Her attire was far too distracting.

They had spent the morning getting the ingredients for this potion together. It had taken, in Belle's opinion, far too long. His lab, she had declared, was completely unsuitable for just about anything. It was unlabeled, messy, and there was no discernible system by which one could find different ingredients. She had, therefore, started ...cleaning. And it was driving him insane. It wasn't that he didn't have a system ...it was just that it was his system and therefore only he could find things quickly. After several hours of him asking her to get something and then having to either point them out or get them himself she had left the potion, which had to brew for several hours, and began rearranging, labeling and asking questions. He didn't mind the incessant questions. She wanted to learn about everything so as not to be a hindrance to him and to be able to help him should that ever become necessary. He had not had an apprentice in a very long time. He had not realized how much he'd missed teaching. Granted, he'd never taught someone he ...well, at any rate, he would have to be careful with Belle. He would be lost if anything happened to her. Hence the potion they were working on; something that would both help her learn to make potions, which as he had explained were the fundamentals of magic, and to protect her if ever the need arose again. Much like the ring she still wore, the potion would make her invulnerable to everything and everyone ...including him.

He was, at the moment, sitting on a stool in the corner, watching her because she had bent over to grab something off the floor and, honestly, he appreciated the view. There were now books, in alphabetical order, on the shelves around the lab. Bottles with potentially hazardous contents were on one side of the room, neatly labeled and in a row. Other ingredients were either in bottles or containers, also labeled. He hated to admit it, but it was far easier to find what he needed now.

Belle stood with a small, round, yellow stone about the size of a nickle in her hand. "What is this, Rum?"

His brain had been on an entirely different track. "Sorry?"

She grinned. "This?" She held up the stone and it took him a moment to focus.

"Beazor. For poison," he said, standing and stretching. "It comes from the stomach of a goat."

Belle made a face. "Well, that's ...gross. To make poison or to make antidote to poison?"

He walked across the room and took the beazor out of her hand. "By itself, it's an antidote to most poisons. Gross but hard to get your hands on, so let's be careful with it, shall we?" He turned, looked along his new 'things that don't blow up' shelf, found an empty container and dropped it in. Belle was right behind him, reaching over his shoulders to attach a label. He set it back on the shelf and turned around in her arms, which she draped around his neck. "Have I expressed how much I enjoy that outfit?" he said with absolute sincerity.

She smiled, and it lit up her face. "Not this morning."

"Didn't I? Well, I have been remiss, my lady." He bowed, and she giggled until he started pulling at the black cord she had used to lace her shirt up. She had spent at least an hour this morning trying to find this cord. His fingers roamed up under the shirt and over her breasts causing her to gasp in pleasure.

Her voice was breathy and barely audible. "Don't lose the cord, Rum."

He raised his eyes from where they had been focused and brought the cord up to hold in front of her. "Yes, that would be a travesty," he said, his eyes lingering on the skin he had exposed. He took he cord and draped it over her neck, pulling it gently over her shoulder. It slid across her skin and he reclaimed it, letting it swing back and forth across her nipple until it puckered. Belle was, at best, unsteady on her feet. He twined the cord through his fingers, catching her around the waist as she wavered, and pulled her lips to his.

The kiss was gentle. A soft swirling of tongues, tempting one another to go further. In the end, Rumplestiltskin gave in first, walking her backwards, never removing his mouth from hers, until she ran in to the far wall. He stopped immediately; gauging her reaction, remembering what had happened with Gaston. Her eyes were closed, her hands reaching out to cup his head, pulling him back to her. He sighed, putting one hand on either side of her head and leaning tantalizingly close, but not touching except where their mouths met. He balanced on one arm and dangled the black cord in front of her, dropped it to her stomach and let it glide up her torso.

Belle gasped and squirmed, but when she did not protest and instead deepened the kiss further, he continued. He pulled the cord to the top of her shoulder, draped it around her neck again and used the ends to pull her against him. When their skin touched, it was his turn to gasp, glancing down and noting that she'd managed to open both vest and shirt without him noticing. She was getting far too adept at working on his buttons, he mused silently, as his hands cupped her and he stroked his thumbs over her nipples. Belle groaned, running her hands under his shirt and up his back. Rumplestiltskin replaced his thumbs with his mouth, greedily suckling at her, tasting, nibbling, and Belle could only clutch at his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure rocketed through her. She wanted him so desperately she was willing to forget the lesson and drag him back to the bedroom.

"We can skip the lesson for today. Go back to bed?" she suggested as innocently as possibly standing in the lab half naked.

He raised his head and smiled. "There is no reason we can't do both," he said, working at the leathers he had discovered had no buttons. How ...infuriating. How in the hell did he get the damn things off? He pushed down on the waist and they slid rather easily ...oh, well, that was handy. He pushed them down as far as he could get them while she was still wearing her boots and slowly kissed his way back up her body. Lingering at her inner thigh, not wanting to go too far, too fast.

Belle lost all semblance of control. The very idea that they were going to ...here ...now, in the lab, was both horribly exciting and a little scary. She had no knowledge of these things, save what she'd learned last night. He was kissing and teasing her in places she hadn't known could feel like this and the heat from last night came back with a fiery insistence she was incapable of ignoring. When he reached her face again, he kissed her deeply, fiercely and she had no idea what it was he wanted her to do. He raised his mouth from hers just enough to whisper, "Do you trust me, my Belle?"

She had no words; the sensations he was causing were overwhelming, so she simply nodded. His eyes were solid black with no pupil whatsoever. He put his hands on her waist and turned her around, pulling her back against his body, letting her feel, even through leather, how much he wanted her. She could hear him working at his own breeches with fumbling fingers. He was excited; aroused beyond coherence and although she could not say why, that pleased her on some very primitive level. To know that he wanted her so badly that even he could lose control was, to her, perfection.

She became confused when she felt him against her. Probing, pressing, searching ...and gods did she want him inside of her, but she had no idea what to do. He wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned her forward until she was almost bent at the waist. She was afraid she was going to fall, but his arm was like a vice and she realized that with his immense strength, he would never let that happen. His hand pressed between her legs and Belle cried out as he stroked her, spreading her legs wider, slipping a finger inside of her, teasing, touching ...until she was sure she was going mad.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" His breathing was ragged, his voice desperate.

She tried reaching behind her to grab at him, but found her arms weren't long enough or he was too far away. "Be inside me, Rum. Please." Belle was unaccustomed to begging, but right now, if he could release the overwhelming pressure building inside of her, she would. She heard him gasp as he guided himself inside her. It was different from this angle, deeper somehow, and as he thrust in, he slid across her causing a dual pleasure that made her cry his name and dig her fingernails into his arm, as she had nothing else to hold on to. His thrusts were slower this time, and built the tension inside her to a peak of pleasure she was sure was going to drive her to insanity. She heard him groan, attempting to keep the steady pace, but just by the sound of his voice she knew it wasn't going to last.

When finally she demanded that he go faster, he pulled her closer, one hand splayed across her back, and pressed in to her with such force that it was just this side of pain, and yet that feeling in and of itself was a part of the experience. She felt his head drop onto her back. "Oh, gods, Belle." His movements became erratic, his thrusts harder, faster and Belle was so caught up in the realization that his pleasure, his need, his desperation was equal to if not more than her own that her orgasm caught her by surprise. A shock wave of immense pleasure broke over her, slamming through her body and she heard herself calling his name. He pressed inside her once, twice, three times more and found his own climax, burying his face in her hair as he pulled her upright, placing kisses frantically along her shoulder and neck. He was shivering, she realized. As she had been the night before. He stood there, his arms wrapped around her, kissing her hair, her neck, her shoulder, until the shaking subsided and he was able to step away and pull her with him to a chair.

They both collapsed, and he wrapped her in his arms again, unwilling, or unable to move any further than this. Belle leaned her head back against his shoulder and he kissed her gently. "We definitely have to find you something else to wear, or we'll never get any actual work done."

Belle curled up against his chest, kissing it softly and looked up at him with those stunning eyes. "And just what would you suggest I wear?"

Rumplestiltskin smiled. "Nothing at all, my lady. Nothing at all."

She playfully smacked his chest. "Yes, because that wouldn't be distracting."

He laughed. "I suppose you do have a point." He sighed, shifting her to look over at the cauldron that was still simmering with the potion they'd made earlier. "I think we may have to make it again."

"I'm going to have to get dressed for that," she said. Embarrassed that her clothing was across the room.

He smirked. "Yes, and me as well." He pulled her fully into his arms and stood up, cradling her against his chest. "But not today."

Belle didn't complain when he left their clothing where it lay and walked out of the lab toward the bedroom. She could learn this potion tomorrow ...or, she mused, the next day perhaps.


	32. For Your Protection

He was trying to concentrate. Honestly. And Belle was ...mostly ...being an attentive pupil. As it turned out, while the potion they'd managed to burn yesterday in favor of more pleasurable pursuits had, in fact, been ruined, it had also taken half the time to find all the ingredients today with the lab fairly tidy. He found it annoying. She was just smug about it.

She handed him a container with live beetles in it, made a valiant attempt not to cringe when he fished one out and tossed it in the potion, and put the box back on the shelf.

He looked at the bubbling potion. Now ...they had to wait, and given what happened yesterday while they waited, he wandered over to his bookshelf ...that now actually had books on it, and pulled out a large volume. Belle watched him with interest. He sat down in the overlarge chair closest to the small fireplace that kept the lab, if not warm then at least tolerable and motioned her over. He knew his Belle, and books were her weakness. She stood next to him and he flipped with a practiced hand through the pages until it fell on the potion they were currently working on. Only then did he look up.

Belle raised an eyebrow and he couldn't help but smile. "I want you to read this. It explains the potion in far more detail than I did, and what it does. It will also give you the incantations you need to activate the magic." She looked around for somewhere to sit and finally gave up and sat down in his lap. "Belle," he said, his tone a warning.

She looked at him innocently. "What? Get another chair then."

He could have, she knew. She'd seen him do it before. But he didn't, and so she settled back against his chest. "I thought you said the incantations were unnecessary."

"When you're first learning the magic ..."

She cut him off. "It helps to focus. I remember." Belle looked at the book he was holding open in his hands. "It's a protection spell?"

He nodded. "Well, sort-of. This one is specific to you. Only you can activate the magic, only you can stop it. You said you were uncomfortable because the ring could be unpredictable. This potion gives you complete control over when and where the protection is used. Plus that, this is stronger. It would protect you from me, if needs be."

Belle turned her head so she could look at his face. "I don't see that being a problem."

He shrugged. "Monsters with a temper can be dangerous, Belle." He said it so matter of factly that she cringed.

"Rumplestiltskin!" He looked at her and she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "You ..."

"Are not a monster," they said together.

He shifted in the chair, trying not to dislodge her. "As grateful as I am that you do not believe that. It never hurts to be prepared for anything." When she started to protest, he silenced her with his lips. After several moments, they reluctantly broke apart. "You know ..." he mused. "That is so much more effective than asking you to stop talking."

She smacked him and then turned her attention to the book. "So, the potion is ready in an hour and I wear it ...in a vial or something."

He nodded. "Or something. Take your ring off." Belle hesitated at this request. "What's wrong?"

"You're not going to turn it in to something else are you?" When he didn't say anything, she continued. "This is the first gift you ever gave me that wasn't a book, Rum. Please. Pick something else."

"If you wish," he said. "Speaking of that ring, why do you not wear it now? You had said you wished you could."

Belle gave him a devilish smile. "I tried. It doesn't fit quite right. I was going to wear it to make certain that the Dark One knew my heart belonged to another." She felt that rumbling laughter in his chest.

"I see. That is very serious, my lady. Let me see it." When she gave him a suspicious look he laughed again. He could not remember the last time he had truly and honestly laughed as much as he did when they were together. "I can size it for you."

"Hmmm ..." Belle bit her lower lip and considered him for a moment. "You get it."

"Belle ..." She could hear the warning in his voice. "If I go fishing for that ring, I may never come out. I've a better idea."

He leaned forward a little, sitting her up straight, ran a hand through her hair, and then lifted it off the back of her neck. After placing several small kisses around the clasp, he reached up and unhooked it, lifting the necklace out and over her head. She made a sound of annoyance. "Be sure to suck all the fun out of the moment, Rum. Don't let me stop you."

"There is always later," he said, smiling. He took the ring off the chain, put the chain back around her neck and held the ring in his fist. He reached around her, took her hand, and slipped the ring on her right hand ring finger. It was much too small. "In my defense, I did make is several years ago when your hands were smaller." Belle felt the prickling tingle of magic as the ring slowly slid down her finger until it rested snugly at the base. Rumplestiltskin lifted her hand to look at the ring. "There. Now it's a proper promise ring."

Belle smiled as she looked at the small, delicate ring. "A promise of what?"

He took her hand and kissed the ring. "Anything at all that you should desire, my Belle. It has always been that way."

A warmth passed though Belle. She could think of many things that she wanted. "Well, for the moment, I'm afraid we're just going to have to study."

Rumplestiltskin kissed the back of her neck. "Hmmm. Why's that?"

Belle looked up ...at ...well, nothing. "You know that omniscient author lady that writes all this stuff down for us?"

He nodded. "Is there a problem?"

Belle sighed. "She is violently sick."

He started to move her and Belle put a hand on his chest. "Nope, you're potions only work here. Where she is ...they won't help."

"Very well, I suppose we could just go back to bed and wait until she's better."

"I am absolutely in favor of that idea ...who knows, could be days," she said, laughing.

They both looked up toward ...wherever the omniscient author person was. "Get well soon."


	33. Here There Be Monsters

She wore it every day, he was pleased to see; the promise ring he had given her. She was also, he noted, wearing yet more of his clothes that she had altered. Not that he minded. Belle in leather was certainly not something he was inclined to complain about. He could make more clothes. In fact, had offered to make her some clothes appropriate to practicing magic, but she had declined, stating she might end up with more exposed than covered. He supposed she had a point.

They had, in fact, added another chair in front of the fireplace in the lab after burning yet another protection potion. They were currently seated, waiting for it to simmer, and had managed to get 45 minutes in, which was in and of itself a miracle. He seemed to have a insatiable lust when it came to this woman. Lust. And he wasn't willing to probe it further. He had not yet explained to her the ramifications of True Love's Kiss. There was a very fine line between love and True Love, and they were walking on the edge of a knife as it was. Generally, he would not lament the loss of his ghastly appearance should her kisses break the curse, but his power? His magic? No. He had plans for those. Would he give them up for Belle? He knew the answer before the question was complete. No. Not right now. He was much too close to finishing all his manipulations, to finally pushing every piece on the chessboard into the right position so that he might be sent to the land without magic where his Baelfire had been lost so very long ago. Checkmate, in other words.

Belle sat quietly, which was unusual, her eyes roaming the room. In the past days she had managed to consume a good portion of the books he had on magic and potions. It was refreshing to have an apprentice who actually read what he asked. He had many times doubted that Regina could read at all. At the moment, she was staring at a cabinet he had fervently hoped she would never ask about. He should have known that his Belle missed nothing. Frankly, she'd probably noticed that it was both locked and enchanted the day she had cleaned the lab. That she'd waited this long to ask ...well, shit, she was probably waiting for him to explain. As he was not in any hurry to do so, she had apparently decided she'd been patient enough.

"Rum?"

He looked over at her and smiled. It was amazing to him how simply looking at her brought a smile to his face. "Humm?"

She nodded at the cabinet. "What's in there?" She didn't make explanations. Didn't add that she'd waited and had hoped he'd tell her. Didn't say she was just curious. Didn't remark on the fact that although she was now his pupil and should therefore have full access to the lab, it was locked ...and had a spell on it that repelled anyone but him. Just the question. Nothing more.

He took a breath. "Spell books. Dark ...very dark. Blood magic."

"Blood magic?" Her curiosity got the better of her and he sighed, reaching over to take her hand.

"Yes. The darkest of magic. You know that names have power?" She nodded. "Blood, hair, skin ...anything off another person, has a great deal of power as well. Combine the name with the blood, and you can do some truly horrible things to someone."

"Such as?" When he looked at her as if he couldn't believe she would ask, she continued. "Rum, I need to know about all aspects of your magic. Not just the easy, pleasant things. It doesn't mean I have any intention of using blood magic."

He nodded, sighing. "For vengeance mostly. To kill from a distance. Torture. Rape. Blood magic, Belle, is the very darkest of magics. I would not have you exposed to it."

"But you use it?" Her question of straightforward, as if she simply wanted to know, but he somehow felt she would think less of him. Yet, they had always been honest with one another.

"Yes." His voice as soft, a whisper. Belle squeezed his hand and he looked up at her, the curtain of his hair falling into his face. "I have in the past."

She chose to let it drop. For now. He knew it wasn't over, not by a long shot, but for now, at least, the subject was closed. "I think our potion is finally ready."

He laughed, standing and pulling her with him. "After 3 days, I would say it's about time. Never have I had this much trouble with a protection potion." He leaned in and kissed her lightly. "You are far to distracting, my lady."

She pulled out of his embrace to walk toward the cauldron. "Is that bad?"

"Not bad," he said, coming up behind her. "But it does make for exceptionally slow lessons."

She peered into the cauldron at their potion and made a face. It looked like really old, bubbling, mustard and smelled worse. "I see how this works. I wear it and the smell is so bad people run when they see me coming."

He became serious and put his hands on her waist. "Say your incantus."

Belle paused, thinking over the reading she'd done the last several days. "Contego." The potion continued to look like boiling mustard.

Rumplestiltskin leaned closer to look over her shoulder. "Close your eyes. Relax. See a shield around you, it can be anything, a stone wall, an energy field, build it in your mind, layer by layer, stone by stone, take a breath ...and say it again."

Belle concentrated. She could feel the potential magic in the air around her, sparking and swirling around them, waiting for instructions. She could feel Rum's warm body pressed to her back, and that is what she saw in her mind. Rumplestiltskin, standing before her, always steady and strong, even when she was a child. Always there, always protecting, always shielding, never leaving her alone as so many others had done. She built him up, a giant in her mind, a protector worthy of the gods themselves, and said it again. "Contego."

This time, the potion moved, sliding out of the cauldron, down the table and pooling at her feet. No longer yellow, it was clear, like water. It rose up in front of her, wrapped around her, creating a literal shield that forced Rumplestiltskin to take a step back. When she turned, his eyes were sparkling, proud, and somewhere inside her, it gave her comfort to know that she had made him happy. He clapped his hands together. "Very good, Belle. I think you may be a natural at this." He pulled a small, silver vial out of his pocket and reached out to fill it with potion, but the shield Belle had created snapped and sparked at him, like a guard dog. "You'll have to turn it off, I'm afraid."

Belle thought back to her books. Oh, well, that was easy enough. "Fin."

The potion dropped, pooling at her feet again, and slopped its way back in to the cauldron. Belle felt like she should be wet, but she wasn't. Rumplestiltskin filled the vial and handed it to her. "Attach it to your chain, and you are protected wherever you go. And to be honest, I find that very comforting."

She smiled. "As do I. You said it works only for me? Only upon my request?"

"Yes. You have full control of the magic, though as I said before, you must practice. Magic is like any other craft. If you don't practice it, you lose the ability." He paused, and moved forward, pulling her into his arms. "Well, that was very successful. I think we can call it a day."

She kissed him. It was deep and probing and promised many fun and interesting things if they left this room in favor of the bedroom. Not that this room was necessarily bad, as she had learned. He deepened the kiss, allowing himself to fall in to her, roam her body with his hands. She was perfection, and while had still had no idea what she could possibly see in him, nevermind something beautiful, he couldn't seem to allow himself to ponder. Afraid that if he did, he might convince himself that she was ...no, he couldn't go there. Belle was many wonderful things; and one thing she never would be was a manipulator. He had seen many of those come and go, but this girl; this woman, was true.

#

It was nearly four in the morning when the screams finally woke him out of a sated slumber. They had fallen into one anothers arms some hours ago, exploring the joys of the flesh, of one another, learning new and exciting ways to make the other gasp with helpless pleasure, and fallen asleep tangled together.

Rumplestiltskin bolted out of bed. Belle was not there, and he ran, naked, through his castle toward the lab. What the hell was going on? The scene before him caused him to panic briefly. Belle was seated before the fire, a book in her hands, her fingers were bleeding, and the tears that were streaming down her face were also tinged with red. The cabinet that held the books of dark magic was hanging open.

Her mouth was open in a scream he was unsure she even realized she was voicing. "Belle!"

She didn't look at him as he knelt on the carpet in front of her. "Belle!" It did not appear that anything was getting through to her brain. The keening wail of fear coming from her was enough to cause him physical pain. He glanced at the book; it was handwritten, the 'ink' was black ...it was blood. He grasped it and slammed it closed. Afraid if he pulled it out of her hands her fingers might come with it.

Once the words had disappeared, the screaming lowered to a whimper and Rumplestiltskin was finally able to pull the book from her hands. "What on earth were you thinking?" He didn't mean to sound so harsh, it was his intention, in light of the fact that she was obviously traumatized, to be gentle. Belle's eyes tried to focus, found his face, stared in to his eyes and he could see the absolute horror reflecting from hers. She was shivering, her teeth chattering. He stood, put the book back in the cabinet, closed it again, and returned to her with a blanket. He pulled her up to her feet, sat down, pulled her in to his lap, and wrapped the heavy blanket around them both. He said nothing else. Waiting for the shivering to abate, allowing her to regain her composure before he demanded she explain what in the hell she'd been doing. Had he not been perfectly clear that the cabinet was filled with death? And that ...that tome had been one of of the lesser of the dangers. As her body started to relax a little, he pulled a hand out to look at it. Her fingers and palms had stopped bleeding. She hadn't been holding the book very long then ...hopefully not too long.

"Belle? Sweetheart?" His tone was gentle this time. He wasn't going to get answers by screaming, although he wanted to with ever fiber in his body.

Her voice was shaky, but, to his relief, it sounded normal. "Rum? What …?"

"Why would you go into that cabinet after I told you not to? I told you it was dangerous. You must believe me when I tell you these things," he chastised gently, holding her tightly against his chest. If anything happened to her … "Why?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't sleep. I came to get the ingredients for tomorrows lesson set out. The cabinet was open, Rum. The book was there ..." she motioned toward the table next to them. "It was lying open; marked with my blue silk ribbon. The one you gave me. I didn't know what it was. Gods ...Rum ..I didn't know." She shivered again and he pulled the blanket tighter around them.

Something was very wrong. Either she had done this and had no memory, or someone else had done it ...but why? Rumplestiltskin knew the reason. It was far too easy to become addicted to blood magic. He had seen it so many times. "How do you feel?"

"Scared." He nodded. That was a good thing.

"It'll pass. I promise. Let's go back to bed, shall we?" He stood, Belle, blanket and all in his arms and walked out the door.

She paused for a moment. "Are you naked?" Rumplestiltskin laughed. There was his Belle. She was going to be fine.

Somewhere, deep inside Belle's subconscious, while her mind was completely focused on the fact that Rum had no clothes on and she fully intended to explore that when they got to the bedroom, part of her, deeply buried, wanted that book. Despite the pain of holding it, despite the blood that oozed from her hands, despite the absolute terror of the words, she wanted that book.


	34. Magic with Benefits

He wanted to talk to her when they returned to the bedroom. In fact, it had been his intention to talk to her seriously about what had happened. He did not believe for a moment that Belle would intentionally go against his wishes, given everything he had told her about the books in that cabinet, and read them anyway. That left two possibilities. She had said the cabinet was open when she went in; the book laid out on the table between their chairs by the fire, with her blue silk ribbon lying on a page. It was unlikely she'd noticed the open cabinet at first and perhaps thought he'd left a book for her to study. He often did, and what frightened him was that he generally left them just like that. Lying open, her blue ribbon marking the place he wanted her to read. Were that the case, then her picking it up and beginning to read was normal for her. She probably hadn't even realized anything was wrong until she'd begun to translate the words, until the darkness; the magic had attached to her fingers and palms, causing them to bleed. He would have to check the contents of the book to be sure, but he was almost positive it was an introduction to blood magic. The language was San-script, a dead language. How had she even understood it? Blood magic was as old as time itself, and the books and items inside that cabinet were exceptionally powerful, dangerous, and addictive.

The first possibility was that the magic itself had bespelled her and she had removed the book herself. Placing it on the table with the ribbon to create a false sense of security within her own mind. And yes, while that was possible, it seemed unlikely. The second was far more frightening. Someone ...or something, had been inside the lab, inside his castle. His castle. The castle he had gone to great lengths to protect and ward against intruders. It was the most probable of the two and yet he had no idea who or what would seek to destroy Belle via magic. Regina ...okay, maybe, but she was more the type to just kill her and get it over with. Addicting her to black magic was something that took time, something that would slowly destroy the person Belle was now and create a creature no one, not even he, would recognize. He honestly had no idea, but as it seemed likely that this is exactly what had happened, he would have to add more wards, more spells, more protection around the castle. He didn't know if the intruder could be kept away, but it was the best he could do. He had believed himself the most powerful and dangerous sorcerer in the realms ...gods, what if he had been wrong? He had promised he would protect her, always, and he would honor that promise to his dying breath. This would not happen again.

He set her on the bed, brushing the hair out of her face. When she reached for him, he thought nothing of it and allowed her to pull him in to her arms. Her mouth found his and quite suddenly their tongues were involved in a frantic duel. She sucked it gently at first, and then harder until he gasped and attempted to back off, to talk to her about what had happened, but Belle had her hands buried in his hair and pulled him, roughly, back to her lips, devouring him. He had forgotten the side effects of dark magic, blood magic. It had the tendency to bring all ones most base desires to the surface. She would not be talking about anything tonight.

He wanted to care ...really, but her tongue in his mouth, on his neck, in his ear, nibbling his earlobe, and her hands caressing over his naked body was making it impossible. They could discuss it in the morning, when the effects of the magic had abated. At least he'd gotten them to the bedroom.

By the time she pulled her head away from his nipple, he was breathing heavily. "You have too many clothes on."

She started to reach for the gown she wore, but he stopped her, reaching under and hooking his thumbs over the waistband of her underwear and pulling sharply. She gasped, grasping at him in a state of complete abandon. He tossed them over his shoulder. He was on his knees and Belle, unable to wait any long, sat up to meet him. Their lips met in heated need and mutual love. He groped for the bottom of her nightdress and pulled it over her head, allowing it to follow her undergarments to the floor. She rubbed herself up against him and he gave up on the concept of foreplay. Normally he would drive her to insanity, tease and touch and fondle until she begged him to make love to her, but that was not going to happen tonight.

She felt his slick, wetness press against her naked skin and grabbed his hips, pulling him closer, wanting him inside her like she had never wanted him before. He pulled her against him until his tip was pressed to her most sensitive part. He reached down between and guided himself inside her. It was an awkward position, with them both on their knees, but he had to be inside her, needed it like he needed water. It was a desperation he'd never known before, and by the way she moved and pressed closer, he was sure she felt it as well. This ...this was one of the allure's of blood magic. At the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Pure pleasure washed over them as he entered her, straining to push in further. He leaned back on his haunches and pulled her into his lap, thrusting as deeply into her as he could. Belle grabbed his shoulders, pressing down on him, trying to keep the pace slow, not really wanting this to end any time soon. He groaned and lifted her off of him. She was momentarily confused until he straightened out his legs and lay back on the bed. She straddled him and he slid inside her once again. He pressed up, trying to quicken the pace but Belle was in complete control, and she was reveling in every sensation, every thrust, every feeling. Rumplestiltskin sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Turn around."

Belle's brain was clouded with need and she did it without thinking. He pulled her back against him, getting to his knees and pushing her forward. He came up behind her, one hand splayed across her back and pushed in to her from behind. He had much more freedom this way and his pace quickened until he was thrusting inside her almost desperately. He groaned, flipped her over onto her back and slid on top of her, pushing in as he did.

It was desperate and frantic, a need born of love, lust and magic. He was thrusting in to her so hard, it was just on the edge of pain, and yet Belle had no desire to stop him. She wanted more, she wanted it to be harder. She felt herself coming to the edge and urged him to go faster. Belle cried out as the orgasm slammed through her body, pushing up against him, feeling the immense pleasure wash over her. A few seconds later, Rum grabbed her hips and groaned, shuddering as his own orgasm hit him. He thrust in to her over and over, whispering her name until he had nothing left. They collapsed in exhaustion, curling up against one another, unable to move or speak.

It was at least half an hour before either one of them moved. They lay there, bodies covered in things they would probably need to wash off, limbs tangled, and found they were, neither of them, capable of making their muscles do anything but twitch. He managed to turn his head to the side and look at her. Gods she was stunning, her hair tousled, her lips swollen, her body covered in a sheen of sweat. He was not fully recovered and yet as he lay there, he realized he wanted her again. He could feel himself hardening in response to the thought ...or was it to her ...both, probably.

When he spoke, his voice was deep, heavily accented, rough. "Belle."

She said only one word before turning toward him. "Yes."

He pulled her up against him, entering her slower this time, with more care. He did not want to hurt her, and they had only just ...Belle was having none of that. She rolled him on his back and straddled him, sliding down on him until he filled her fully. She actually sighed with relief, as if he completed something inside her that she felt empty without. He hoped that wasn't the magic. He hoped with everything he was that she honestly felt that way about him. While he still had trouble believing this beautiful creature loved him, he had come to accept it.

She moved slowly, driving him to insanity until he grabbed her hips hoping to make her move faster, but she pushed his hands away. He gave up, cupping her breasts and pressing into her as much as she would allow. When she went still, he groaned. "What is it?"

The smile she gave him was devilish. He did not see the tiny spark of life that was not quite Belle; as if someone else; something else had slid behind her eyes for the briefest of moments and then gone back to where it had come from. "I want you to tell me what pleases you, Rum. I want to do everything that pleases you."

His hands came to her waist, his dark fingernails standing out against the paleness of her skin. "Everything you do pleases me," he whispered as she moved above him, leaning forward and letting her hair brush over his chest. He gasped. Never before, in his life ...in any of his lives, had a woman asked him what made him happy. It had always been the opposite, and he did not know how to make her understand that simply by asking, she had given him a gift that he could never repay. He had been Rumplestiltskin the loner, the coward, the man who's wife left him, the man who deserved nothing , or Rumplestiltskin the Dark One, the dangerous, the deadly, the horrifying, for so long that someone loving him, someone cherishing him, someone caring if he was pleased or not was almost more than he could bear.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around Belle, pulling her down so their chests were touching and simply held her, breathed in her scent, felt her body clench around him as she continued to move ever so slowly. There was something special about their love making this time. It was so slow, so deliberate. Her eyes never left his face, as if she couldn't look away, as if somehow she liked to look upon him. He did not understand that. He was ugly, he was a monster, he was ...his thoughts stopped when her hand came up to trace over his forehead, down his nose to his chin. She followed that with her lips; caressing that which he would forever think unworthy. He was so caught up in the many sensations that he gasped as his climax hit him; it was sudden, and unexpected and he thrashed underneath her until he was spent, limp and boneless. Belle remained where she was, kissing his chest softly, moving up to his lips, over his cheeks and up to his hairline. "I love you, Rumplestiltskin."

The words made his heart swell. He knew she loved him, but no matter how many times she said it, it always felt new. "And I love you, my Belle."

"I'm sorry about earlier ..." she started, but he cut her off, kissing her temple.

"Shh ...we'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, just let me love you."

And so she did.


	35. Unexpected Visitor

It had been forever ...or, rather, never, since Rumplestiltskin had an apprentice who was as gifted and bright as Belle. A lot of that he attributed to natural talent, but her insatiable desire to learn, to read the books he gave her, to do whatever was needed without questioning his methods or strange requests was actually something he'd never experienced before. He'd been teaching magic a very long time, mostly dark magic ...perhaps that was the difference. He had steadily steered Belle away from anything dangerously dark. After the mishap with the cabinet, a mystery he had not yet solved, he was unwilling to teach her anything classified as truly dark.

Most magic, as he had explained some time ago, was generally speaking neuter. Neither good, nor bad, it was simply potential that in the right hands could be made to create, or move, or protect. How one used that potential; for good or for bad, dictated what kind of magic one used. At least, that was the kind of magic he was willing to teach Belle, and so far, she had been receptive to it. Eventually, he knew, they would run out of good or slightly gray magic and he would have a problem, but for the moment, he was going to simply bask in the delightful feeling of joy that filled him when she did a spell that worked and smiled at him with those amazing blue eyes shining with pride.

Certainly, there was magic that was, without a doubt, simply dark. Magic that had no gray areas about it. Magic that took away life, magic that ripped out hearts, magic that to this day corrupted his soul. And then there was black magic, which was something entirely different. Blood magic. Magic that used the actual parts of a human being, be it blood or skin or hair, to do unthinkable things. He could kill someone by ripping out their heart and crushing it; that was dark magic. He could kill someone from a distance by creating a potion with their hair or blood that would literally boil them from the inside. That was blood magic. It was so addictive, the rush of power so great, that not even he, Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, was willing to deal with it. People who offered deals for blood magic were summarily dismissed, and many times he was not pleasant about it. Was he evil? To some extent, yes, he was. Was he Evil with a capital E ...no.

He hated it. He would never admit it ...ever, to anyone, but he did. He hated it. He wanted to lay open his heart to the beautiful woman who had, by some miracle, chosen to be with him, find that place inside of him so stained by darkness that it did not allow for True Love, and clean it. Clean his soul and be with Belle. If he could imagine a perfect future for himself, that would be it ...with one addition. Baelfire. His future could not be complete without Bae. Unfortunately, to find his son, he had to continue on his current path. One that would destroy the world he lived in and take him to a land without magic. He had been working on a potion that would allow for he and Belle to at least remember that they loved one another, but love was tricky. He knew that the final pieces of the puzzle were falling in to place. Soon, Regina would come to him for the curse he had been creating for nearly a hundred years.

Before that happened, he had to explain everything to Belle. He was not looking forward to that conversation and while he knew she would likely understand, she would still look on him with disappointment and for once in his very long life ...it mattered what someone thought about him.

He heard a dish break downstairs and poked his head out of the lab to call for Belle, until several more dishes followed them. He bolted down the the hall, through the wards, made several turns, wondered briefly why his castle was so damn big, and finally hit the stairs leading into the great room.

The picture before him might have been comical if Regina didn't appear about to blow his love to oblivion.

"How dare you!" Regina screeched at Belle who was facing her, away from Rumplestiltskin.

"You walked in to my home unannounced and startled me!" Belle yelled back, and for some reason Rum was almost content to watch them fight. His Belle was perfectly capable of at least protecting herself from the Queen's most basic magic.

Regina puffed up like a blow fish. "I do not need to be announced, maid."

At this Belle focused on the tea tray sitting on the table and a cup rose into the air, hurling itself at Regina's head. One would think, given the amount of broken china littering the ground around the Queen's feet, that she would get the idea and be silent. Clearly, she did not posses that particular virtue.

As much as he was enjoying watching his Belle throw things at the Queen, Rumplestiltskin went down the stairs and came up behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist. He had no intention whatsoever of hiding their relationship. Regina could clearly see that Belle was his apprentice and that would make her wary of doing anything blatant. He had every intention of questioning her about the cabinet as soon as Belle was calm and left them to attend to whatever business Regina had with him.

"You should tell your servants to treat their guests with more respect," she said, an air of superiority surrounding her words.

Belle bristled in his arms, and he pulled her back against him, resting his chin on her head. "As I am aware that you are not a complete imbecile, Regina, I would request that you address my apprentice with the regard for her station that you expect for yours."

Regina could not possibly have looked more stunned if Rumplestiltskin had announced his impending sex change. She regained her composure quickly. "So you've gotten yourself a new girl. Why am I not surprised. We have business, Rumple. Kindly ask your ...pupil ...to leave."

Belle had dealt with the Queen just about as long as she was capable. She had thought, what with her throwing dishes across the room, the woman would get a clue, but she was clearly so certain in her own superiority, be it station or magic, that she was dismissing Belle like a recalcitrant child. Anger began to build in her stomach; a fire that was stoked by a mixture of indignity and jealousy. How dare this ...this ...woman come in to her home, to Rum's home, and act as if she were more important than Belle. The anger grew into rage, ravaging its way through her until she struck out and a wall of pure energy blasted Regina back, across the room, and out the door. She landed in a tangle of limbs against the wall outside the great room. She looked stunned, angry, shocked and just the tiniest bit of fear peeked out as well.

Instead of running to Regina, as he didn't honestly care much, Rumplestiltskin turned Belle around to face him. Her stunning blue eyes were tinged with red. It was slight, but it was there. His heart froze in that moment. What the hell was going on? Belle had never wielded power like that. Granted, she had taken Regina by surprise, but she had never shown an ability to amplify her protection shield to create a wall of energy. The red in her eyes faded, leaving only the blue, but it had been there ...however brief it had been, it was there and he was terrified. "Belle?"

"I don't know," she said, answering his question before he was able to ask it. "I was so angry, Rum. She was ...and I ...and she ...I was just ..."

He stopped her. "I understand rage, sweetheart. I just don't know where it's coming from."

Belle shrugged. She didn't have a clue what was wrong with her. She had been the mistress of a castle for the majority of her life. She had dealt with Kings, Queens, Knights, Lords and a myriad of others; countless aristocrats and royals that should have prepared her for this situation. Regina was certainly pompous, and annoying ...and unbelievably rude, but a gracious host does not use magic to throw someone out of the room, no matter how much they deserved it. Belle reached inside her mind, focusing on her magic, as Rum had taught her, and tried to find that rage ...it was in there, somewhere, but she simply couldn't reach it. It was gone as suddenly as it had come. "It's gone, Rum. It was like ..." she paused, unsure if she should say anything else but he encouraged her to continue. "It was almost like it wasn't me; not my thoughts, not my anger, not my magic."

Rumplestiltskin stood peering into his lovers eyes for many minutes trying to see the flash of red he'd been certain had been there. But as Belle said, it was gone. Like a ghost, like the wind, just gone. He grabbed her arms gently. "Belle, have you been back inside that cabinet? You can tell me ...if you have I can help you."

She was not nearly as hurt as she was alarmed. "Gods, no, Rum. I didn't even get in to it the first time. I told you, the book had been laid out."

He knew she was telling the truth. It was clear in her voice, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest. "We'll figure it out. I thought it was over or I'd have looked in to it a little more closely." He sighed and glanced at the doors to the great room. "I suppose we should pick up Regina and see what she wants."

Belle looked up in to his face. "Do you think that Regina would …?"

He cut her off. "I thought of that. And no, she was honestly surprised by both my taking you as an apprentice and by your very ...grandiose display of magic. It's not her."

"What's going on, Rum?" Belle was genuinely frightened. Yes, she wanted to learn some magic, and yes, she wanted to understand what it was that Rum dealt with everyday, but what she had just done, blast a powerful sorceress across a room, was beyond her abilities ...at least it should be.

He shook his head and kissed her softly. "I don't know. But we're going to find out. Okay? I promise."

She nodded. She trusted that Rum would take care of it. He would figure out what the problem was and fix it as he had always done.

They walked in to the hall and were not surprised to find that Regina had gone. Whatever it was she'd wanted, clearly it could wait until she'd had the opportunity to figure out exactly what had just happened to her and how to prevent it from happening again. Belle looked worried. "Do you think she'll come after me now?"

He reached out and took her hand, pulling them back in to the great room and allowing the doors to close. They walked slowly to the fireplace and sat in their respective chairs, both lost in thought. Finally, Rumplestiltskin looked up. "She thinks I'm teaching you dark magic, Belle. It would be in her best interest to avoid you until she acquires enough information to make an informed judgment."

Belle shook her head. "What does that mean?"

He reached across the table between them and tugged on her hand, pulling her up so she could sit against him. He much preferred it this way. Two chairs was just a waste. "It means that yes, she will definitely come after you. Try not to worry. I can handle Regina."

"What about the magic?" she asked, fear creeping back in to her voice.

His arms came around her, holding her tightly against him. "I did not pay that as much mind as I should have. I will remedy that lack of insight tomorrow." Belle gave him an exasperated look and he sighed, relenting. "Tomorrow I will get into the cabinet and find out who or what has been accessing it."

Belle didn't want to go anywhere near that cabinet. "What will I need to do?" She was afraid, he could tell, but she was not going to back down if he needed her. It was comforting, soothing, peaceful.

He smiled. "Tomorrow, my lady, I shall teach you how to create wards."


	36. Wards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note the NC-17 rating on this chapter.

As it turned out, learning wards was much more enjoyable than Belle would have anticipated. Generally speaking, wards were magical barriers placed around a person or place that prevented other persons or things from entering and/or exiting that space. When she woke up, happily tangled in Rum's arms, she lay there reveling in the feeling of his body against hers. It was strange because as she felt the ridges, textures, raised edges and smoothness that made up all of him, she thought how unusual it would be to lay with anyone who had completely normal skin. She giggled. It would probably cause her to scream in terror and run naked out of the room.

She felt him move slightly underneath her. He was very happy she was there. He usually was in the morning. She wondered if this was simply normal for men, or if it was unique to him. He wiggled a little and Belle gasped, rolling over without actually removing herself from his body, which was quite a feat considering their current positions, and lay stretched out on top of him. She kissed her way across his forehead, something she had a fascination with she could not explain, and down his cheek to bury her face in his soft hair. Her fingernails trailed a path over his shoulders, across his nipples and down to his stomach. While he made soft sounds of desire, groans of need, and smalls grunts of frustration in the back of his throat, he said nothing. Belle took the time to explore him completely. Not that she hadn't before, but as he did not seem inclined to move beyond slight shivers and twitches, at least for the moment, she abandoned herself to kissing her way down his body, savoring every inch of skin she covered, lavishing him with lips and tongue until she reached his hardness lying against his stomach. She paused for a moment, unsure if he would enjoy her lips upon him, or if ...well, she didn't know. Rum made a louder sound, one of desperation, one of appreciation, and Belle took it as answer enough, allowing her tongue to flick out over him, and down his length.

He bucked, almost throwing her off, and she was not sure if he'd been injured. His body settled back to the bed and his hands came down to bury themselves in her hair. She could feel him physically trying to prevent himself from pushing her mouth back where it had been, but the pressure was still there. She obliged, taking him in her mouth. It felt strange, sucking gently on this part of him, but when she glanced up to look at his face, his eyes were closed, his head pressed into the pillows, his hands fisted in her hair. He was literally rigid, trying not to move. She could taste him, and although she had heard stories about this sort of thing, she found nothing disgusting about it. To her ...he tasted like salt, and sweat and her Rum. She was so involved in savoring the moment, in feeling the sensation of the smooth skin, compared to the textured, raised surface of his stomach, that she only realized he had come to his breaking point when he sat up quite suddenly, grabbed her waist, rolled her over and entered her with a harsh, desperate thrust that brought a groan of pleasure to both their lips. His mouth covered hers, ravaging, nibbling, tasting ...he couldn't seem to get enough of her fast enough. He had never been quite this frantic, never quite this rough. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of her head and he pushed his body up, bringing her legs up and pressing himself into her fast and hard. He never quite found a rhythm, his thrusts became erratic until he finally gasped, pressing his lips to hers, shoving his tongue into her mouth and spilled himself inside her. He reached between them, sliding his fingers over her nub and pleasure roared through her. It was too much; too frantic and she came almost immediately, wrapping her arms and legs around him; pulling him down to rest on top of her.

"Gods, Belle," he managed between harsh, gasping breaths. "I love you so much."

He was shivering, she realized, as he lay there, coated in a sheen of sweat. In fact, his entire body was shaking from the after effects of their love making. "Are you okay?" Her voice was a whisper; unsure. She was not at all certain what she'd done had been a good thing. She'd enjoyed it immensely, although she could feel the beginning ache between her legs. She was going to be sore this time.

He laughed. It was a rough, exhausted expulsion of breath and sound, but a laugh nevertheless. "Oh, sweetheart. I am so much more than okay."

Belle breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought ...I didn't know if you ..." She blushed, looking away from him. "If you would like that, but I ..." The blush deepened to beet red. "I was curious."

Rumplestiltskin finally had the energy to roll on to his back. "Oh, my darling. Please feel free to be as curious as you like. Did we not agree that I would tell you what makes me happy?"

"We did," Belle said, smiling. "But you seemed incapable of speech."

He turned his head and grinned. "For future reference, if I'm not able to speak, please don't stop."

She laughed, swatting his arm. "We should be practicing my lessons."

Rumplestiltskin motioned at his own body, and then at hers. "We need a bath. Fortunately, wards are something I can teach while we're doing just about anything."

Belle got up and he watched her hungrily as she went into the bathing room. She was in there for perhaps five minutes before she poked her head back out. "Are you coming?"

He considered her for a moment. "Come get me." She moved to do just that, but something blocked her path. She could clearly see that the bathing room door was open and yet there was a solid, invisible wall in front of her. She pushed at it and it didn't budge. She looked out at Rum who was sitting up in bed grinning and frowned."Aww, come on now. That, my Belle, is a ward."

Belle placed her hands against the wall, moving from top to bottom, edge to edge, it did not appear to have any weaknesses. It felt like a cold glass of water that had been sweating, and yet her hands were not wet. Rumplestiltskin stood up and walked toward her. She had just pressed her hands against the middle of the wall and pushed when he dropped the ward, catching her in his arms. "As much as I admire your curiosity, my Belle, your lack of clothing is making it hard to concentrate."

She had been so intent on the ward she'd forgotten that she was completely nude and that it was invisible. She blushed all the way to her toes and Rum giggled in delight, pulling her to the copper tub which was already filled with steaming water. He got in and she followed, leaning back against his chest. She sighed. "Heaven."

She felt his smile in her hair. "As close as I'm likely to get, angel."

It was in her nature to argue that he was not completely damned because of a curse, but she let it pass as he began slowly soaping her hair. If this was not heaven, she was content to just stay here. He worked on her hair for quite some time, soaping and rinsing it thoroughly and then creating, literally, a small bottle of something that smelled like lavender and roses. It was lovely. He stroked the oil gently through her wet locks until they were no longer tangled, and then let her hair fall back in to place. Belle was nearly asleep again when wet hair touched her back. She was absolutely clean now, but Rum had not been as thoroughly washed. "Trade places with me."

He looked on her with suspicion, but stood and let her scoot back against the edge of the tub that had magically warmed and cleaned the used water. He stretched out until his toes touched the opposite side and lay his head on her stomach. "You were right."

She had grabbed the soap and started to lather it into his hair. "About what?"

"This is heaven," he sighed.

Belle took her time washing his hair and body; enjoying every sigh, every happy moan, every contented sound he made. When he looked up at her after she had finished rinsing his shoulders, his eyes were solid black. She smiled. "I thought we were practicing wards."

His eyes didn't change, but he did raise a hand to grasp one of hers. "Right you are. Wards, my Belle, are much like the protection given to you by this ring." He indicated her promise ring, something she never removed. "They are more deliberate and are usually created to protect a place as opposed to a person, although that can be done as well, however, usually, you ward your home, or in our case, a cabinet."

Belle felt fear pool in her stomach. Every time she walked in to the lab it was like having an elephant in the room. She was entirely too aware of that cabinet, and more, what was inside. The book. She didn't even know how to read that book. From what she could remember, it was a language she'd never seen before, it had hurt her to hold it, it had made her fingers and palms bleed from the sheer darkness contained within the pages, and yet her hands itched to hold it once more. If not Regina the Bitch Queen, who else would hold a grudge against Rum? Okay, well, that was a long list that started with her father, and Gaston ...and Lord Avonlea ...but it would have to be someone very powerful. She knew that the castle was already warded against intruders. "Are the wards on the castle to prevent all intruders, or just human ones?"

"Human. I'd hate for the castle to attack a stray cat. Why?"

Belle considered for a moment. "What of spirits or ghosts? Could they pass the wards?"

Rumplestiltskin was silent for several minutes. "I suppose a spirit or entity could pass into the castle, but they've no physical form, how would they manipulate the cabinet, or for that matter, handle one of those books without becoming enthralled by it themselves?"

"Books?" Belle was alarmed. There was more than one?

"Yes, sweetheart," he said, stroking her arm in a soothing gesture. "The cabinet is filled with books of blood magic."

"Why keep them here, Rum? Is that not dangerous to you?"

He turned over in the water and got to his knees so he could lean over and kiss her temple, cheek, lips ...he started to linger, but Belle pulled back, her eyes clearly frightened. "No. I've no interest in blood magic, and as the Dark One, the pull of the darkness does not really effect me. It is safer that I keep them here, don't you think? Rather than let them fall into the hands of an innocent, or, gods forbid, someone who meant to use them?"

Belle nodded. Of course he was right. It was best that they were here. Locked up tight. "Can we not destroy them?"

He stood up and offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, wrapping her in a giant, fluffy towel. "Do you not think I would have done so already were it possible?"

"Of course you would," she sighed. "So, what do we do now?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "We get dressed and add more wards to that damn cabinet."

It was a strange sensation. Absolute terror of going anywhere near that cabinet coupled with an overwhelming desire to be close to it, to touch it, to open it ...she should tell Rum about these impulses, but she did not. She always remained silent, allowing him to believe her unaffected by the book she had held that night. She could not, for the life of her, explain why she was unable to voice her concerns. It was as if there was a block in her mind that prevented it, and while she knew that could not possibly be safe, she was incapable of stopping it. She hoped, in the process of learning wards, they would create something that would block the draw of the blood magic altogether. She would be grateful to never feel it's pull again.


	37. A Queen's Revenge

After their very enjoyable bath, Belle had become all business. She told herself it was nerves, she told herself that the sick feeling in her stomach was natural when dealing with magic, she also knew it was a lie. The feeling she had was much more about excitement than anything else and that frightened her. She should tell Rum. Tell him she was drawn to that book, and now ...knowing what lay inside, drawn to the cabinet itself. How much, her mind wondered, could she learn with those books? Could she find a tome that would allow her immortality that she might be with Rum forever? She shook her head as she followed him down the hallway. Where in the realms had that thought even come from? She had no desire to be immortal. She would happily live here with Rum for the rest of her days, but every life had a beginning, and an end.

She stared at his back as he moved to the door of the lab, opening it with the wave of a hand. Removing wards, she realized. She had never noticed them before. Should she have? The pull toward the wardrobe was instant when the door opened. Yes, that thing needed more wards. Now. "What do I do?"

Rumplestiltskin turned and seeing the stubborn set of her face, the flashing of her eyes, knew this was not a time for jokes or tenderness. "Wards. A physical manifestation of an invocation, either thought or spoken, which create a protective barrier around an inanimate object, such as a house, or a cabinet. As I said, you can ward people as well, but that is more advanced. These wards are like the protection potion without the potion. So much of magic, Belle, must be first envisioned in your mind. Your mind is a powerful tool. Nothing can be done if one cannot first see it done, even if one has not yet done it. Does that make sense?" When she nodded, he continued talking about beginning with a thought and invocation, and moving on to just the thought.

He did not notice Belle as she moved ever closer to the cabinet. She wanted more than anything to pull it open and simply look at the books. She didn't need to touch them, she didn't want to open them or read them, just look upon them. She did not realize that her fingers were about an inch from the knob until Rumplestiltskin grabbed her hand and pulled her back across the room. He tilted his head to one side. "Are you okay? I understand that blood magic is very compelling, even through the wards I have on it already. That's why we're adding more. Belle?"

Her eyes had been glued to the cabinet, her mind not even registering he was talking. She shook it off. She had to get past this. "I'm sorry. What?"

"Is everything okay, Belle? It does not take much to become addicted to blood magic and I do not know how long you held that book, although I suspect it was not long." He reached out and pulled her chin up so he could look in to her eyes. "Belle?"

What she said in her mind was "No, everything is not alright, I am addicted to this magic." What she actually said was, "Yes, of course. Let's get started."

#

"It is not going to happen right away," Rumplestiltkin said for perhaps the 10th time that morning. He knew Belle was getting frustrated as she tried again and again to erect a ward around the cabinet in the lab. "Relax," he said, putting his hands on her waist. She shook him off, stepping just slightly closer to the imposing wood and thrust her hands in front of her, willing with all of her being, with everything in her soul, that a solid steel cage filled with concrete would cover it from bottom to top. It still stood there, the sheen of old, polished wood seeming to mock her. It was harmless enough to look at. An old Georgian wardrobe, with four short, flourished legs, two doors with antique bronze pulls and waves starting at each end along the top meeting in a beautiful hand carved filigree; as furniture went, it was very nice, probably very expensive, and yet ...it felt almost as if it sensed her there, knew what she was doing, and knew that however much her mind wanted to create a powerful ward, her heart wanted to open the doors and remove the books inside.

He stepped back and waited. Now was not the time to try to console her. Either she would erect this ward, or she would pass out from exhaustion. Belle took a breath, trying to relax even as the muscles in her shoulders bunched with anticipation. She let her breath out slowly. She was trying too hard; going too fast. She pictured the cabinet covered with one of the heavy tapestries hanging in the great room, saw it clearly in her mind. "Creare." And this time she felt something flood out from within her. She felt it cross the room, move in the air, and settle over the wardrobe. When she turned, Rumplestiltskin was smiling.

"I knew you could do it," he said, the pride obvious in his eyes. "What did you see?"

"A tapestry, from the great room. Heavy, hard to penetrate, although perhaps I should have imagined those nasty curtains," she said, also grinning despite the sweat that had broken out across her forehead and extreme exhaustion.

She staggered a little and Rum was there, his hand on her elbow. "Enough for today. Magic takes energy and you have been at it nonstop for hours. Let me add a few more wards and we'll get lunch." He paused. "Okay, a really late lunch." Belle looked confused and he shook his head. She was well on the way to becoming as obsessive about magic as he was. Losing herself for hours without realizing it. "It's after three."

Belle was stunned. "Is it really? I hadn't .."

He waved a hand. "No matter. I should have paid more attention. You are a distraction no matter what you're doing, it would seem."

She leaned in to kiss him when a voice sounded behind them. "How very sweet. I do not recall this being part of my training, Rumple."

They both looked up to find Regina standing in the doorway. Her face was set in a snarl. When he did not respond to her barb she shrugged. "I have a gift for you." Her eyes were on Rum, but the words were for Belle. Regina raised her hands and all of the carefully placed wards cracked and fell away from the wardrobe. The doors flew open, the books falling out, directly on to Belle. They stung everywhere they touched her, and yet ...and yet ...she reached out, grasping the book she'd had the other night. "That's right, girl. It feels good, doesn't it? Even as it eats away your very flesh."

Belle looked up, the book in her hands, blood dripping from her palms onto the wood floor. Blue eyes turned blood red and rage filled her mind. She had no more control over it than she had of her desire for Rum. She stared at Regina, flipped open the book, and held it out toward her. Regina intended to say something about how she wasn't going near that book, but then Belle took a breath and blew the magic off the page. It swirled in the air and then wrapped around Regina's throat. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Rumplestiltskin stood there, stunned so badly he didn't know whom to help. Regina choked, dropped to her knees, her fingernails clawing at her throat leaving bloody trails behind. Belle's eyes never left hers and when she looked up to see that they were absolutely solid red she knew the girl was now controlled by the blood magic. It was not something she had anticipated, and Regina realized too late it was about to cost her her life. She was going to die.

Rumplestiltskin finally forced his body to move. He didn't dare touch Belle; his magic would only amplify what she was doing. He looked at Regina, who's throat was a bloody mess as she tried to get some air and still, Belle did not relent.

"Belle!" Rumplestiltskin was screaming. There was no time to speak softly. "Belle!" He didn't know how to reach her. "You're going to kill her! BELLE!"

He had no other choice. He reached out and tore the book from her hands, ripping off several layers of skin in the process. He tossed it across the room and raised a hand, slamming shut the doors of the cabinet. Regina was face down on the floor, no longer moving. He had no time at all. He pulled Belle into his arms and pressed his lips to hers, putting every ounce of love, need, desire ...every year they had spent together, every moment, every day that he had loved this woman went in to this one kiss. He saw the child lying on the straw, clutching a tattered doll for comfort, he saw the girl who had grown up too fast and taken over her father's castle, he saw the young woman terrified of a boy who knew nothing of love, and a young woman who's kind heart forgave and cared for wounded soldiers. He saw a woman mourn for the loss of her friend, and a woman of immense bravery step up and end the ogre wars by agreeing to become a maid for the Dark One. Each memory, each thought, each moment, was filled with a love he had not realized he was even capable of; a love so pure it exploded out of his soul. He felt her respond, clutching at his arms, pulling him closer until she wrapped her arms around him and began to weep. He held her against him. It was going to be okay. He would make it right. He had to.

Behind them, Regina gasped, choked, gagged and got up slowly off the floor. Rum didn't dare turn around to face her. "I suggest you leave."

"She's not yours anymore, Rumplestiltskin." This was the Queen's parting barb before she turned, and attempting to appear as if she were not fleeing, walked briskly out the door.

Rumplestiltskin could not be bothered if she got out the door or not, so long as she did not come back in this room. Belle clung to him as she wept. Her hands were covered with blood, her tears were red, and he did not know what to do. If what he'd just done to break her away from the book was what he believed it to be, he ...he didn't know. He would figure it out. He gave it a moment of thought and the information was still there. Everything he knew, up to and including how to detox someone from addiction to blood magic. He had seen her go straight for the original book. She should have told him. Should have, but didn't and he had to let that go. It was out now. He had to get her out of this room.

"I'm sorry, Rum. I'm so, so sorry." She was still clinging to him, and he realized that she wanted desperately to go get the book he'd thrown across the room. He said nothing, simply picked her up and carried her out of the lab, closing and warding the door. He added an extra precaution that would prevent Belle, specifically Belle, from getting inside. Although if she got angry enough, it was possible it wouldn't hold.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart. I promised I would take care of you. I promised. Do you remember?"

She nodded, unable to say anything else, completely spent. He carried her to the bathing room and gently washed her hands before undressing her, putting on her nightclothes and putting her in bed.

She looked up at him, his back was to her. "Are you leaving?"

He shook his head and turned around. When she gasped and covered her mouth he knew the worst had happened. Would he take it back? No. Not if it meant losing Belle. "Your face ..."

He tried to smile as he undressed and slid in to bed next to her. "True love's kiss."


	38. I Am Rumplestiltskin

Belle turned on her side and stared openly at his face, her eyes wandering from his still curly soft brown hair, across tanned, smooth skin and falling on soft brown eyes that lowered when she finally reached them. She shook her head and pulled his face back up so that she might look upon him. So very different and yet, still the same. Although the skin was tan from the sun, and worn from what looked like years of hard work, the hair remained the same, the planes and angles of his face were the same and his eyes ...Belle smiled; he had crows feet at the edges from laughter, and she could see to the very depths of what must have been a genuine, soft, and kind soul. Though she thought she might one day miss the gleaming gold of his excitement, the absolute black of his desire, the splash of gold on the black when he practiced magic and eyes that were either wolf or snake or a mixture of both, she also knew she would love these eyes. They were a light brown, flaked with the gold that was so prominent in his other form, but they were not hazel ...there was no inflection of green, just the splendid brown. She almost laughed at how fascinating she found them. They were simple, human and for whatever reason they touched her heart. When she was finally able to tear her gaze from his eyes, she found a shadow of stubble across the same strong jaw she had always known and still lower the same soft lips that had always been there. Pink now, and not mossy gray, but the same. Her eyes fell to his neck and she moistened her lower lip. It was covered with a light smattering of freckles and she found herself wondering if he would taste as he always did. She really hoped she didn't look prepared to devour him, although she most definitely was.

He fidgeted under her studious gaze. "I did tell you I was an ugly bastard before the curse as well as after, did I not?" he said, trying to make light of how uncomfortable he was. The timbre of his voice had changed, deepened and grown more accented.

She didn't know how to express in words everything she was feeling. What he had done to save her. He had once spoken of a difference between love and True Love, that while the former was indeed special, the latter was literally magical. He had never explained further. She thought he had always meant to, but as far as she knew, nothing had ever happened between them that had forced the issue and it was likely he forgot ...as she had. Perhaps that was a grave oversight on both their parts.

Her eyes were blinking too much and she realized how exhausted she was from the events of the day. Although he had seen to them tenderly, covering them with a healing salve and clean linen, her hands hurt. It was not overwhelming yet, but had an edge to it that promised much more pain come the morning. She should rest; she should try to recover. She should ask him what was going to happen now, but she was unable to stop herself from staring at him.

Her muddled brain was trying to find words but she found she had none. She finally gave up, leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. It was still her Rum, the hands that grasped her, the mouth that crushed down upon hers, the taste of his throat under her tongue; everything was still Rum ...just not the Dark One. She would have paused a moment to ponder what that meant, but he growled in the back of his throat, pushed her onto her back and a moment later she was lost in the passion they always managed to create together. Regardless of what he looked like, she loved him; loved him beyond anything she had ever thought possible. Even in the books she read she had never known this kind of love existed. She had known he loved her, but until today, she had not realized how much. It was beyond what she could begin to comprehend, and frankly, at the moment, she was not inclined to care. She wrapped her body around him, held on, and let all her love flow through her.

Rumplestiltskin held nothing back this time. There was no point in maintaining any semblance of control on the desperate love he had for this woman. The damage had been done, and as she did not seem inclined to scream and run, he was going to enjoy this moment; this night, while it lasted. He had no idea what tomorrow would bring. His True Love was neck deep in blood magic, he had no idea if he retained anything but rudimentary knowledge, although given that he had been able to ward the door on the way here, he clearly had something. He had done it as he always did, without thought, and it had worked for him. Yes, somewhere in him there was still magic, but was it enough to finish the curse ...and why did that thought make him feel ill? Would he be able to get to the land without magic and find his Baelfire, or had he lost him forever?

Belle kissed her way up the side of his neck and found a soft spot just behind his ear. His mind went blank. He had not made love with a woman like this ...as a man ...since ...he paused, he had never made love to a woman as an ordinary man. He'd done his duty as a husband and been gifted with his beautiful son, but no, he had not made love. He pushed his worry and doubt to the back of his mind and focused on the woman making soft noises of appreciation below him. He caught her mouth with his and abandoned himself to the moment. Tomorrow. They would have to deal with all of this, yes, but they would deal with it tomorrow and they would deal with it together.

#

He slept surprisingly peacefully for a man who'd lost so much and yet gained untold treasures in the same day. Perhaps it was that as the Dark One he had always been conscious of the magic inside him. There had been so much of it to begin with, and he had only added to that by collecting power. He had believed with every fiber of his being that to prevent his own death, to protect his son, he needed power, lots of power, and he had allowed it to consume him so completely that in the end, even his son could not stand to be near him. He didn't feel that overwhelming magic anymore. Just a slight buzz, like an undercurrent of electricity flowing through him. As he thought back, he realized it had always been there. He had simply not had the knowledge to recognize it for what it was. Magic. Zoso had seen it; felt it there inside him, that is why he'd been targeted by the old Dark One. The bastard knew he would be able to not only take the power and the curse, but also wield the magic. Not everyone had that gift. Although magic was inherent in the air around them in this world, there were only some who could tap all that potential to create. He had been one of them. He wondered what his life might have been like had he known. Had someone realized that he had a talent for it, as he had seen in Belle, and shown him the proper way to wield it. Would he be different, better, stronger? And yet, had his life not run its course, he would not have Belle, in fact, he would likely have died long before she was born.

He found it amazing how decisions based on one fact or a lack thereof, made a completely different life. Had he been cruel? Evil? Yes, to a certain extent, he had killed without reason, without care; he had taken retribution for a childhood filled with pain and poverty, but each decision he had made had, in essence, brought him here, to this moment. Something he would not give up for the world. Even should Belle grow beyond him, seek adventure when she knew she could protect herself, he would never lament knowing her. Never be sorry he loved her.

He was curled naked against her back, keeping her warm in the cool of the morning, and with their activities of the night before he did not realize how fitfully she slept, or notice the sheen of sweat that covered her body until she groaned and turned over to face him. Even in sleep she looked exhausted. Her hands were clearly swollen, even with the linens, now red with her blood, covering them. What had he done when he had ripped that book away? He needed Regina to live; had a plan, much of which hinged on her enacting a curse he was now uncertain he could complete. He hadn't had time to think yesterday. He had simply acted; saving Regina's life in the process, but if he had destroyed Belle ...that he could not live with. It would be too much to shoulder.

He had to start somewhere so he sat up and pulled her hands into his lap. He had barely touched them when she cried out and her eyes shot open. "What are you doing?" She sounded frightened, frantic and angry. "Rum? Are you going to kill me now, is that it?"

"What?" Rumplestiltskin shook his head, trying to clear out the sleepiness. He supposed several hundred years of not really sleeping had caught up to him in a hurry. "Of course not. I would only change your bandages, sweetheart. Look." He nodded down at her hands and her eyes left his to glance at her heavily wrapped, red, linens.

Belle sighed. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean ..."

He picked up one end of the makeshift bandage and saw her flinch. "Oh sweetheart, does it hurt that badly?"

She spoke through clenched teeth. "We need to clean them, Rum. Just do it, please." The last was said in a pleading tone, and she closed her eyes. He couldn't bear to watch her face so he concentrated on her hands, getting them unwrapped as quickly as he possibly could. The gasp at what he found was completely involuntary on his part. Belle's eyes opened and he could see the pain there just before she looked away and stared at her own hands. They were several different shades; purple and red being most prominent, but the blues and greens of bruising were clear as well. They were not swollen as they'd both believed, but covered in pustules that had clearly formed and burst during the night. Under the cracked and broken skin, new blisters were forming to take their place.

Belle was literally shaking with pain when he picked her up and placed her in the bath. "Shall I wash them?" She didn't answer and it was clear she hadn't even heard him. "Belle?"

She glanced at him, then her eyes went directly back to her hands. "What?"

"Do you want me to wash them, or would you rather do it yourself?" He honestly didn't want to touch them at all, but he'd no idea what else to do. He couldn't leave the castle, lest someone see him and know the Dark One no longer maintained power over this land. He did not know if he had the ability to summon someone, but even if he did, whom was he going to call? He had not lived a good life these past centuries, and everyone he knew was either afraid of him or completely corrupt. He didn't know a good healer; someone who might shed light on this.

Belle lowered her hand toward the water and managed to get four fingers in to the knuckle before she hissed and had to pull away. "It's in the book," she said it so matter of factually he wasn't sure she realized she'd spoken. He stood and got another linen out of the wardrobe and began ripping it in to strips. "Did you hear what I said, Rumplestiltskin?" He came to a sudden and grinding halt.

"What did you say?" He was suddenly so frightened he was literally unable to move.

Belle blinked, looking at him in confusion. "I said I can't wash them. You are going to have to do it. I'm sorry."

He continued ripping the strips of linen walking back toward her. He grasped her by the wrist and gently washed one hand, trying to block out her hisses of pain. It was impossible and by the time he'd finished the first hand, salved it and wrapped it again, he was not sure he could continue. He took a breath and rose from the side of the tub, turning away for a moment to collect the rest of the bandages.

"You'll never change will you Rumplestiltskin?" He heard the voice and knew it wasn't coming from Belle. He knew exactly who was speaking; who had started them down this path. It was her retribution; her vengeance. He had taken her life and now ...he looked back at Belle who was sitting quietly trying not to allow the tears he saw building in her eyes come streaming down her face. He had taken her life, and now she had come to take away his.

"Hello Milah."


	39. Banishing Milah

She looked exactly as she had many years ago when he had last seen her; like a pirate, like that waste of space and leather, Killian Jones, albeit much less corporeal. He had no idea exactly what she intended. To the best of his knowledge, spirits, if that is what she was, could not touch, move, or affect anything. They were off set from this reality. They were an image in a book, a memory, and nothing more. Yet, he had no doubt whatsoever that she was the person who had put this entire mess in motion.

She looked down at him haughtily, her eyes filled with a superiority she had neither earned nor deserved. Now that he thought about it, she had always looked at him like that. Perhaps he had been blind to her indifference back then, but his eyes were very much open now. He ignored her and turned back to Belle, washed her other hand, treated it and gently wrapped it. By the time he was finished, despite the warm water, she was shivering. No ...he paused, looking into her eyes. She was shaking. He grabbed a towel, wrapped her up and carried her back into the bedroom, passing the bed and moving into the sitting room.

He knew Milah was watching him so he took a moment to focus his thoughts and then raised a hand. Two things happened simultaneously. The bathing room door slammed shut, quite literally, through Milah, causing her essence to dissipate, and a soft pillow of down appeared on the floor in front of the fireplace. It was exhausting. The curse of the Dark One clearly gave him energy he would now have to maintain another way, but the basic core of magic, that ripple of electricity he had always known, was there and it worked for him. He breathed a little easier as he lay a shuddering Belle on the pillow and grabbed a soft blanket to cover her. "I will protect you, my Belle."

She looked up at him. He could see the fever of withdrawal in her eyes. A sheen of sweat had broken out over her face. The shakes wracked her body. "It hurts."

He knelt, passed a hand over his body and surprisingly managed to dress himself in leathers and a soft white tunic. He sat down, lifted her head, and pulled her halfway into his lap. "I know it does. We don't lie to one another so I won't tell you it's going to get better soon ...it's going to be hard, and it's going to take time, but I can promise you the pain, the shakes ..." he sighed, "the vomiting which will come eventually, that will be over in a few days. After that ..." He turned her head up to look at him and saw her try to smile. "We will do this together, okay?"

Belle felt like miserable shit, but looking at him made her smile anyway. "You look amazing like that." She spoke with a tremor in her voice, and when she reached up her hands were shaking, but she needed to touch him. He had not donned the heavy dragon coat, but a light weight cotton tunic, probably of better quality than he wore when he lived as a regular man with his son, but still simple. His hair curled down to the top of the collar and brushed it lightly. He had on soft leather breeches that looked well worn and broken in and the boots were not the menacing black, but a soft, knee high brown. It set of the tan of his face and the slight flecks of gold in his eyes. She thought that just perhaps, if she could simply hold on to the image before her, she would get through this.

He grasped her reaching hand. "How are they feeling?" The bandages were not soaked in blood yet, so perhaps something was improving. She shook her head and shuddered. "Bad."

He looked down and away from her. "I don't know what else to do Belle. I know of no one who ...what about one of your maids? Would one of the servants in your father's castle know of a healer?"

She shrugged. It was likely but she felt so bad she could not get her mind to focus on anything but the prickling of her body, the wash of chills followed by heat that went through her several times every few minutes, the incessant shaking.

"She needs the book." Milah's voice came from behind them and while Rumplestiltskin turned to see if she had recovered from being dissipated, Belle didn't seem to hear her at all. "Her hands are going to become infected and have to be removed. If you place the book in her hands, they will heal." She was there ...sort-of. He could see the look of disgust on her face.

He sighed. "Go away."

Belle looked confused. "What? Why? No, please, Rum, this is ...okay, it's horrible, but I'm at least warmer." She sighed. "For the moment."

He shot a glare at Milah and looked down at Belle. "I'm sorry. I was thinking out loud. I didn't mean you. I will sit here with you until you feel like yourself again if you like." He tried to smile but he could hear his ex-wife's voice ringing in his mind. Yes, of course to book would heal her hands, the book wanted her, wanted her to be so completely addicted to blood magic that she would sell her soul. He was not about to let that happen, although he knew the room was still in disarray and he was going to have to go in there without the curse of the Dark One to protect him. He had to get those volumes back into the cabinet and lock it up. He would drop it to the depths of the ocean if he thought ...his thought process stopped ...the ink ...it was capable of rendering a person, even a person as powerful as he had been, powerless. Could it do the same for the books of blood? They had been created with a physical piece of some truly Evil alchemist many thousands of years ago, so much so that he had infused his life essence within the books themselves. The ink should render that magic, that life force, powerless. "I think I can help you, Belle. Is there someone who could come here and stay with you? Anyone?"

Her voice was so anguished, he cringed. "You're leaving?"

Milah chose that moment to chime in. "Yes, Rumplestiltskin, leave her here alone. I will whisper to her while she dreams, I will show her the power of the magic, I will guide her back to that room and by the time you return, she will be so consumed by blood magic you will never get her back." She laughed. "You are so pathetic. Could you not even manage to hold on to the power of the Dark One? Did it frighten you, Rumplestiltskin? So much power in the hands of someone like you ...what a waste."

Fear for Belle coursed through him, but he was not the spinner; the coward, the man who allowed this woman to walk all over him anymore. He was Rumplestiltskin, True Love of Belle of the Southlands, a father, and eventually, an actual husband and not simply a convenience for a woman scorned. He lifted Belle, moved out from under her and lay her back down gently, kissing her temple. "Give me one moment."

When he stood up he noted the look on Milah's face. That's right, he did look different now. Naturally, she couldn't see past the clothing, or the realization that he was not only exceptionally rich, beyond her wildest dreams rich, in fact, but also a completely changed man. He almost allowed himself enough magic to put him into his full leather and dragon skin, but he had to reserve his energy. It was imperative if he was to clean the lab and get the ink. It didn't matter anyway. It was not possible to care less about what she thought of him. He had left that behind him so long ago he didn't actually remember why he had thought to propose to this woman.

He considered her for long enough that her essence flickered, a sign of nervousness, and finally he spoke. "I am going to say this once and then I expect you to get out of my home." She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off, invoking a spell he had learned from a woman in his village when he was a child. He was surprised he remembered it at all. "Spirit, essence of Milah," he added her 'surname' with a sneer, "Jones, you may be inside the perimeter of the lands ruled by this castle until I complete my next words at which time you will no longer be welcome here. Should you return, I can, and will trap you inside the angriest, meanest soul sucking demon I can manage to sell you to and then continue to forget you ever existed. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

He didn't let her answer. "Good. So hear me and then get out. I know you see my Belle lying over there fighting for her sanity, her very soul, and even right now, in the throes of extreme withdrawal, she is more woman than you have ever been. I do not know why you have not been banished to the fires of Hades, but I feel certain they are waiting for you. If you do anything else, interfere with her dreams should she actually be able to sleep, the demon summoning will be the very least of your worries. She is my world, she is my life, she is more to me than even my own soul. I have no idea how you managed to do what you did, although I am assuming it had something to do with selling yourself to the darkness in exchange for vengeance. I regret losing my temper and killing you; I honestly do, but I will not tolerate you threatening the only woman in the realms I have ever loved. You will leave here, go pay the price to whomever you owe it to, and never, never come near me, my Belle or my son again."

He stopped, and the spell he had cast took effect, pulling her, screaming, out of his castle and back to wherever she had come from. He closed his eyes for a moment; he was exhausted. He knew that sleep and actual food would help his energy levels. He would definitely start there, but he knew other ways to take in energy. More pleasurable ways, if memory served.

Rumplestiltskin went back to Belle who was staring at him, her pain forgotten for the moment, like he was completely insane. "There was someone here with us, sweetheart. She choose not to show herself to you because she is a coward. She couldn't actually face you after what she did." He knelt and brushed her hair from her face. "No one broke through the magic of the castle. You went to the room, you unwarded the cabinet and laid out the book." When Belle looked like she was about to start sobbing, he kissed her softly. "It wasn't your fault. She planted the compulsion in your mind. You had no idea what you were doing until you saw the book lying on the table."

Belle's voice was soft, almost desperate. "I still want it."

"I know you do," he said. "But I am going to put everything away and ward the cabinet again. I promise you, this withdrawal will end and I will be here ...every, single moment until it does. Putting the barriers back up will help a little." He held his hand out in front of him and a small bottle of clear liquid appeared there. Exhaustion flooded him with this one act of magic. He desperately needed energy. "This will let you sleep."

All she could do was nod. Sleep sounded ...impossible, but she would try. She did not relish the thought of the nightmares that would come, but if it would pass the time until he had cleaned the lab, she would use it. Better to have horrible dreams, than to lay in bed and wait for him to return, knowing he was in that lab, touching her book. Jealousy surged through her making her hands throb in pain, but she pushed it aside. If ever there was a chance to be brave ...this was it.

"Would you rather stay here, or shall I put you in bed?"

"The fire helps a little," she said. He handed her the bottle and she downed it in one. It was absolutely disgusting, and for just a moment, his Belle, before the book, before the addiction, the Belle who always laughed and smiled showed as she grimaced, and tried not to gag. "Oh ...gods, what in the realms was that?"

He smirked. "Best you don't know." She threw the bottle at him. Rumplestiltskin laughed and sat back down, letting her pillow her head in his lap, and stroked her hair gently as the potion took effect and she fell into a fitful slumber.

Once he was certain she was sleeping, he moved her carefully and stood. Now all he had to do was return about 100 addictive books to a wardrobe without the power of the Dark One to shield him and convince a mermaid to go to the bottom of the ocean and milk a squid. Yeah ...no problem.


	40. Facing the Darkness

Rumplestiltskin stood facing the door of the lab. He had eaten a large meal and felt some of his energy returning, but he was almost certain he didn't have the strength for this. In a perfect world, he would wait several days and spend time preparing himself for the onslaught of desperate need he was sure to feel when dealing with one of the books of blood. Unfortunately, this was not a perfect world and he had to get this done before Belle began to stir. He did not want to be missing when she woke up; her withdrawal would be in a fragile stage and given that she knew what he was doing, she would likely come looking for him in an attempt to get at the book. The books needed to be returned to the wardrobe and warded. All one hundred of them. That was the first step.

He had changed into his heavy leather breeches, put his vest over his shirt, added his dragon skin coat and was wearing a thick pair of gloves. It had taken more time than he had anticipated to dress without using magic and now he was wasting time. The honest truth was ...he did not want to go into that room.

He squared his shoulders, settled himself and raised a hand to lower the wards on the door. One deep breath later he was standing in the lab. A wave a need and want slammed into him like a freight train. He closed his eyes, let it wash over him, and started forward. It was slow going. The air was heavy and thick, as if a dense fog of humidity had settled over the room. He felt like he was swimming through tar rather that crossing the lab. The cabinet still hung open, the majority of the books on the floor around it. The book he had taken from Belle was over near the work table. He went for that book first. Kicking it toward the wardrobe, trying to get all the books within reaching distance of the cabinet before he actually put his hands on them.

The desire stabbed at him, quite literally. It felt like someone was whispering in his ear and thrusting a knife into his chest at the same time. 'I know how much you want to hold that book' …stab, 'Pick it up, you don't have to open it' ...stab, 'Pick it up! You want it. You need it. You can feel it in your soul. Nothing bad will happen as long as you don't open it. 

Pick.

Stab.

It.

Stab.

Up.

Stab.

He managed to get the books into some semblance of a pile near the base of the old wardrobe. His body ached, his heart was hammering, his breathing harsh, and he was so tired of resisting. Just a look, a ...a …taste. Just this once.

He glanced down at his vest; blood was gushing out of holes in the fabric, running down his chest. He raised a gloved hand to his forehead to wipe away sweat and realized his face was bleeding as well. Tears of blood flowed down his cheeks, he coughed and spit it out of his mouth, he was going to die if he didn't pull off his gloves and pick up one of those books. He doubled over in pain, watching in horror as the blood landed on his boots and pooled at his feet. Rumplestiltskin dropped to his knees, retching, exhausted, he didn't just want one of the books, he needed it ...he had to have it. He started to crawl toward the pile he'd made and was a breath away from grasping a book ...any book ...just one, it would be fine, when he stopped himself. There was too much blood; it was literally flowing out of every orifice on his body, seeping into the stone floor, spreading across the room. This much blood loss should have killed him. He should be dead.

"Mother fucker!" Despite the blood, despite a pain so great he was certain most of his bones were broken, he pushed himself to his feet, staggered, and backed away. He closed his eyes on the gruesome scene. "Fuck off!"

"Oh ...now, now, language," a male voice said from behind him. He opened his eyes and the blood was gone. The pain continued, but he was whole and uninjured. He turned to look at whomever was inside the lab with him. The man was leaning casually against the door frame. Black leathers were tucked in to solid black boots. He had on a black silk shirt, buttoned at his wrists but open at the throat. A long velvet black cloak completed the outfit. His eyes were absolutely black with no white at all, and his hair too was black. He had a slight beard that he stroked as those eerie eyes watched the scene with interest. "You are the Dark One?"

Rumplestiltskin bristled. "Yes actually so be a good boy and go away. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes," the man said, waving off his irritated dismissal. "I see that. Want me to give you a hand?" He smiled and too white teeth flashed in his mouth. "Not literally, obviously."

"Who the fuck are you?" Rumplestiltskin was out of patience, running out of time and had accomplished almost nothing. He was in pain, irritated and very willing to just kill the SOB in his lab so he could do what he came in here to do and leave.

The man seemed unconcerned except to shake a finger at Rumplestiltskin's language. "I go by several names actually. You may call me Germain. Shall I put those books up for you?"

Rumplestiltskin stared at him, his face incredulous. "How? I can barely get near them, so how were you going to manage?"

That bought him a mischievous grin. Germain walked across the room and started picking up the books, placing them back in the wardrobe. "You managed to banish my property from your lands and send her back to me. I honestly thought she'd never get the chance to pay for my services, but you showed an immense amount of control. I simply had to meet you. It's the least I can do." Rum watched him as he casually put the books back where they started and closed the wardrobe. Germain turned once he finished. "There you go. If you ever have the desire to learn to use them properly, let me know. I would be happy to show you. As you cannot destroy them, would not knowledge be safer than shutting them away and rendering them useless?"

"Property? Do you mean Milah?" Rumplestiltskin was still slightly behind in the conversation.

Germain gave him exasperated look. "Is that her name? Huh. I always thought she said Milo. I must start asking more than once. But to answer your question, yes, her, she came to me from the other world, asked me to allow her vengeance against ..." he stopped, looked at Rum more closely and then laughed. "Well, you I guess. Did you really rip her heart out?"

Rumplestiltskin turned his head to one side. "Yes. Would you like me to show you?"

Germain ignored the malice in the words. "No. I'm fine. I'm afraid you'll have to do the magical stuff. I do not possess that particular gift. Not for lack of trying. In the end, alas, just the Volumes de Sanguine, no magic to make them work."

"Work? You wrote those things? Why would you do that? I am ...was ...am ...well, anyway, very powerful, and used some very dark magic but I would never use those books. They are dangerous."

Germain scoffed. "Please, they are not dangerous. I am simply an alchemist, Rumplestiltskin. You use them out of order. They are perfectly safe. Of course, it is your decision if you want to lock them away, but I can show you both how to use them. The books cannot absorb power if none is present. The very fact that your lovely lady is in so much pain speaks to how strong her magic is, plus that ...she can apparently read my handwriting which is something of a miracle on its own. I will tell you this ...consider it a gift. Milo can use those books, and should she manage to find the correct spell, she is capable of making herself corporeal again and this time she will not have a heart to rip out." Germain reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver doubloon. "Flip it in the air if you change your mind."

"Wait. How is it possible that Milah has magic?" Rumple asked in absolute horror. "She was never magical. Had she even the smallest amount of ability, she would have been ...horrifying."

Germain nodded. "Oh, Milo, Milah ...whatever. She is. Horrifying, that is. She sold her soul for the magic. I grant you, I don't know the whole story, but she desperately wants you dead. You, and everyone you care about. She owes me a debt, but once it is paid, I promise you, she will be back for those books."

Rumplestiltskin stared at the stranger in his lab in utter terror. Not for himself so much, but if that bitch laid a finger on Belle … "Can the books restore my abilities as the Dark One?"

There was soft laughter. "The Volumes de Sanguine, if you use them correctly, can do anything. As they can create you, renew the curse, heal Belle, they can also unmake you, destroy the dagger, kill Belle. They are perfectly balanced. It's a Yin Yang type of thing. Can they be used for horrible and monstrous things? Yes. Can they rip you apart if you misuse them? Yes. But, on the other side of that is the fact that they must have light to counter the darkness."

"I don't have a choice do I? Milah was right, if Belle and I don't learn to properly use the Volumes de Sanguine, if I don't get my full power back, one way or another, Belle is going to die." The thought made him sick.

Germain nodded. "That pretty much sums it up. There are two outcomes here. You and your lady learn to use the books the way they were meant to be used. Or Milo ...damn, Milah will eventually get her hands on them and use them against you."

Rumplestiltskin had no desire to expose Belle to those books, but he now understood that the withdrawal was not going to go away. It would consume her until she was dead. He also knew that the Volumes de Sanguine would command a very high price. It took him about three seconds to look at Germain and nod. What was the point in going over everything again. Yes, there was a price to be paid. Milah had paid the price already; she had given up her own soul. Whatever the price, so long as he paid it and not Belle or Baelfire, it would be worth it.

The look on Germain's face was solemn. "I will be back in 30 days time. Be ready. For now ..." he walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a small volume Rumplestiltskin had never seen, " ...this is book one ...see how that works? Healing and murder are on the 21st page, middle paragraph. For one to work, the other must also be completed."

"Belle would never forgive me if I killed someone to save her life. She would be .."

Germain cut him off. "This book says nothing about murdering a person. Murder is defined as removing a life before its designated time. There are many things that live, Rumplestiltskin. Use your common sense. Thirty days." He turned and walked out of the lab.

Rum stood there with the first book in the Volumes de Sanguine in his hand. It did not hurt or burn, he did not have a strange overwhelming desire to look inside, in fact he would prefer not to. He should have seen this, as the Dark One. He had been using magic for centuries, it always had an ebb and flow. Hence the one statement he always made when deals were struck. All magic has a price. For one does not get the good without the bad to balance it out.


	41. Healing

"The Volumes de Sanguine, if you use them correctly, can do anything. As they can create you, renew the curse, heal Belle, they can also unmake you, destroy the dagger, kill Belle. They are perfectly balanced. It's a Yin Yang type of thing. Can they be used for horrible and monstrous things? Yes. Can they rip you apart if you misuse them? Yes. But, on the other side of that is the fact that they must have light to counter the darkness."

It took a great deal to surprise Rumplestiltskin. After three centuries of life, he had seen and done just about everything, but Germain had managed. All these years he had keep the volumes tucked away in that wardrobe not knowing that all one needed to use them was the proper codex. They were like a combination lock, that if not moved to exactly the right positions, horrible things happened to the user. He had to give it to the alchemist ...it was ingenious. If these books could, in fact, do anything, he could understand why the man felt the need to protect them with the best weapon he had. Fear.

He still couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as he flipped open the first book and thumbed to page 21. He quickly scanned it and felt his stomach sink. True healing from addiction to the Volumes de Sanguine was not possible unless one could wield the magic in all one hundred of the books. This spell was simply a patch to give Belle time to learn before the magic running rampant in her body destroyed her. It was a complicated potion, but he had all the ingredients. As he mechanically followed the instructions in the book, his mind wandered to Belle. He would do anything to protect her, anything to help her. Up to and including learning to use the books of blood.

He had no idea if that would be enough, or if they could learn to use them fast enough to prevent her death, but he'd be damned if he was going to give up without a fight. And yet, the idea of her dying and leaving him in this world without her was overwhelming. He had gone on after Milah had left. He had barely managed when he lost Bae. He would never recover if he lost Belle. Rumplestiltskin was afraid of very little, but the idea of Belle being gone terrified him to his very soul. It made something inside him cold and brittle. Something crystallized in his mind when he added the last of the ingredients, stirred, and filled a small bottle. It was very simple. He would not allow that to happen. They would read this volume together, and be as prepared as possible when Germain returned.

As he walked to her room, he stopped long enough to grab a potted plant from outside the kitchen. For one life to be saved, another must be sacrificed. He wondered how many human lives had been destroyed for this spell? He certainly would never have thought about 'living thing' as anything other than human. But Germain was right, the book did not specifically state a human sacrifice, only a living thing. Hence, the plant, which looked healthy. Certainly killing this plant qualified as taking the life of something before its time.

Belle was still sleeping when he walked in. She tossed back and forth, her body covered with sweat, she was literally soaked in it. Every few minutes she would groan and reach out as if trying to find something. He walked over and knelt on the floor. "Belle? Sweetheart? Wake up."

She came around slowly. Her head was pounding, her body ached, and all she wanted to do was go from where she was to her bed, pull the covers over her head and die peacefully. "Rum?" When she heard him respond softly, something loosened inside her. As long as he was there, she would get through this. She felt him slide his hand under her neck and put a small glass bottle to her lips. She shook her head. "No, no more of that sleeping potion. Please."

"It's not that. You have to trust me, Belle." He sounded so desperate; so absolutely terrified she might refuse it that she didn't hesitate anymore. He tilted and she drank ...it tasted as vile as the last potion he'd given her. "How do you feel?"

Belle opened her mouth to say, "Like crap." But that was not strictly accurate. The headache subsided, her body stopped tingling and the violent shaking slowed until she felt ...almost like herself again. "Better. What was that?"

"Give me a minute and I'll explain everything." He walked in to the bedroom, through to the bathing room, grabbed her soft, cotton, nightdress and returned to her side. She was actually sitting up when he walked back in and he breathed a sigh of relief, sitting down beside her. "Here." He pulled the gown on over her head and ran his hands down her arms. She shuddered, but it had nothing to do with pain.

"What's going on?" She could see in his face that something had happened while she slept; something serious.

Rumplestiltskin picked up the first volume of the books and held it up. Belle's eyes went wide, showing too much white ...just the presence of one of the books was enough to send a shock of terror through her. What on earth was he thinking? When he held it out, she tried to back pedal and landed on the cold, stone floor. "It's okay."

Belle was just this side of complete panic. "How is it okay, Rum? Get that thing away from me."

"Please. Calm down. I was wrong about the books …well, not wrong so much as uninformed. Have you ever heard of the Comte de Saint-Germain?" He was almost begging her to understand.

"The famous alchemist? Lived in the 18th century? Okay, yes." She still couldn't begin to fathom what would cause him to pick up one of the books unless he had also been seduced by their power.

"He payed me a visit today."

Belle eyed the book with suspicion. "Are you sure you weren't hallucinating?"

His eyes clouded over and filled with the terror only brought about by one's worst fears. "I did ...hallucinate. I saw …" He swallowed and Belle put her hand on his. He made several attempts to explain what he'd seen when he was trying to get the books back into the wardrobe and failed. "It was frightening. It was ...so horrible I can't deal with it now. Saint-Germain, however, was not a hallucination. He was real. He is the one who wrote these books."

She stared into his eyes, trying to see any flash of red, but there was none. The book was not hurting him, not making his skin bleed. "Did he say why he wrote books that rip off your skin and make you so addicted that they steal your soul, because believe me when I say, that is what was happening. Forgive me if I'm not really seeing anything positive about it."

"Do you feel the need to snatch this book out of my hand?" he asked, motioning to the volume.

Belle realized that, in fact, she didn't. The desire for the books had waned. It was still there, she could feel it like a constant buzzing in her mind, but not overwhelming, not something she would die for. "No. How is that even possible?"

Rumplestiltskin started explaining. He told her about Germain's visit, the fact that the books had to be used in a certain order to prevent what happened to her. He told her about the first book, about Milah selling her soul in exchange for magic and that she had the combination that would allow her to use the books. It occurred to him that Germain had two reasons to hand him the first volume. The first was to heal Belle as much as he could, the second was knowing that while he and Belle kept and used the book, Milah was out of luck if she were to break in to the castle again. She had given up her soul for the magic she had, and as with the Dark One's curse, it would be exceptionally powerful. He had no doubt that she would find a way around the spell he'd cast preventing her from entering these lands.

He told her everything except the fact that she could die if they didn't learn to use them. Of course, none of this would be necessary if Regina had kept to herself. Okay, Belle was learning magic and basically kicked her ass, but Regina, perhaps better than anyone else, knew that beginners had a tendency to throw around magic when they were overly emotional, and let's face it ...she deserved it. He had not forgotten what Regina had done, but as usual, he needed her alive. The only thing keeping her from a slow and painful death was the dark curse he needed her to cast. He paused to wonder if he could use the Volumes de Sanguine to open the portal and render Regina unnecessary. It would please him a great deal to do something horrible and inhumane to that bitch.

Belle was absolutely mortified when he dumped sulfuric acid on the plant he'd brought with him and explained about the healing. He couldn't help but smile. He knew she was getting angry, but really ...if it had meant having her back, like this, sputtering at him in indignation, he'd have very likely killed anything. She started talking about innocence and how he should not take anything for granted and he almost laughed. That was his Belle. The woman who was pissed off that he'd murdered a weed. He wouldn't have her any other way. He reached for her, drawing her into his arms. His fingers itched to pull her close and roam over her body. All the fear and pain of watching her suffer came to the surface as he held her against his chest.

Belle sat up on her knees, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. She understood. The time for talking had ended. She needed to touch him, to hold him. More than anything else she needed that. He crushed her lips to his and pulled her closer. Apparently he had needed this as well. They had both been afraid that she would be lost. They clung to one another, trying to continue kissing and remove clothes at the same time. It was not as easy as one might think. Belle pulled back as his thumb circled her nipple and ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm covered in sweat."

He scooped her into his arms and walked toward the bathing room. Two birds ...one stone. Something like that. The tub was full by the time he carried her inside. He set her on her feet for about 3 seconds, pulling her gown off ...well, dressing her had been a waste of time, and then picked her up again and placed her in the hot water. He hastily stripped off his clothes and climbed in with her, moving her forward so he could slide in behind her. He lathered his hands, and began to rub soap over her body, kneading her breasts, stroking his way down her abdomen and to her center where he pressed and teased until she was squirming with desire. He needed to be one with her. Needed to remind himself that she was there, and she was okay, and whatever happened, she would be with him. There would be time for slow and gentle love making later. He sat up straight and pulled her back onto his lap, sliding himself against her core. She writhed and groaned, searching for him with her body. He put a hand on her hip and guided himself in to her, pulling her down until he was deep inside her. He wrapped his arms around her, and just held her there. He had not been sure this would ever be part of his reality again, and he wanted to savor it ...if only for a moment.

Belle was still for about five seconds before she started moving slowly with her hands braced on his thighs. He groaned, closed his eyes and let himself revel in the sensation of her body. They had been apart for one day, and it felt as if it had been an eternity. He could hear sounds of pleasure and need and realized they were coming from him. Gods he needed her ...yes, he loved her, given his current state, quite obviously he loved her, but it was more than that, he needed her. He couldn't begin to fathom a world where Belle did not exist. His entire life both as a man and as the Dark One had been misery except for the one shining star that was his Baelfire. He had been lost in darkness and never thought to see the sun again, yet here she was, shining down upon him. She gave him strength, made him whole, she was his everything.

Belle slid forward in the water and he opened his eyes. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I want to be able to look at you."

Those words, more than anything physical, made his heart swell. He stood up and Belle took his place against the back of the tub. He lowered himself to his knees and simply stared at her. Her body was flushed, her eyes sparkling, her face relaxed into an easy smile. He put a hand on each side of the tub and used his arms to keep him from touching her except where their mouths met in heated passion. Belle opened her eyes, realizing she could see down the line of his body and watched him with unabashed fervor. He was still a beautiful man. Had always been. She watched his arms flex as he lowered himself slowly into the water. She writhed with anticipation. It was absolutely the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. This time, when he entered her, they clung to each other, released themselves to the wants of the body, and never looked back. They would deal with everything else later.


	42. Tale As Old As Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sugary Sweet Fluff ...diabetics beware!

Belle watched with frustrated amusement as Rumplestiltskin paced from his spinning wheel to the table and back again. He'd been doing this since early that morning and while she found herself trying not to laugh, it was also irritating beyond all reason. What on earth was wrong with him? Every now and then he would sit down and try to spin, but it generally lasted only a few minutes before he was up again. He had managed to be still twice. Once when she'd brought them breakfast and once at lunch. Now she had a tray laden with tea and pastries. He stopped at the spinning wheel, stared, turned and seeing her setting the tray on the table, walked over to her.

They sat and sipped tea in silence as he watched her over the rim of the cup she had chipped when she'd first come here. For whatever reason, he preferred to drink from that one; had even protested when she'd tried to throw it away. She thought it was adorable, but she refrained from telling him. She somehow believed the Dark One might have issues with being called 'ridiculously cute' even by her. Then again, was he still the Dark One at all? She supposed not. He had magic, of course, as she did, but he'd broken the curse. She many times wondered if he missed it. Did he regret saving her? No. That was a silly question. She knew he didn't, but did he miss the immense power of all that magic he'd had at his fingertips? He had explained to her that he now had issues with maintaining energy, just as she did. For her, it really wasn't a problem. She'd never known she had any magical ability and therefore was generally used to doing things by hand. Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, had been using magic for everything from dressing to cooking for so long he tended to use it without thinking. He had to eat at least six times every day and she could tell, it was cumbersome at best. There were other ways to get energy ...they had explored several of them the night before, but that did not make up for keeping his body healthy.

He continued to watch her and she finally broke. "What?"

"What what?" he asked with a grin that did not reach his eyes.

Belle sighed. "Rum, you've been pacing since eight this morning, what's going on?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." When she gave him a suspicious and frustrated look he relented. "Okay, not nothing, but not anything having to do with magic. I'm just ...thinking. I find it easier when I'm moving around."

"You've been wandering about so long it's making you limp, Rum," she said, smiling. She thought the limp to be a result of his constant pacing but when he looked up and met her eyes, she saw, not mirth, but fear. "What's wrong?"

"I'm limping?" He sounded terrified and she had no idea why.

"A little bit, you've been walking nonstop for five hours. I would imagine it's ..."

He cut her off and stood, ignoring his tea, and walked toward the fireplace. "No, it's not the walking." He stopped at the couch. "I'm getting weaker."

Belle shook her head. "I don't understand." She followed him to the couch and he held out a hand to pull her to his side.

They sat together and without thinking, he flicked a hand at the fireplace. When it roared to life he sighed. "Damn. I have got to stop doing that." He turned so he could look at her, searching her face. "Belle, if I went back to being the Dark One. If ...if the books could restore that magic ...would you ...would ...well, shit."

She actually smiled. "Yes. I would."

He sighed. "You don't even know what I'm talking about."

She took his hand and held it in her lap. "Really? I've known you since I was seven. Do you really think I don't know what you're trying to say?"

His mouth set in a stubborn line. "Fine. What am I trying to say?"

"How about this ..." she said, smiling and bringing his hand to her lips so she could kiss it gently. "Here's the answer to your question. If you found that the books could return you to your cursed state, and decided that was what you wanted, I would still love you. If you lost all of your magic and riches and we had to move into a shack ...or gods forbid, in with my father, I would still love you. If you have decided that you simply cannot live without the power the dark magic gives you, I will still love you. The man I fell in love with is not ..." she waved at his face and body, "...this. He is every aspect of this. He is the Dark One, who can be cruel and dangerous, he is Rumplestiltskin, who lived a life filled with both pain and love. He is the man who loves his son so desperately he will do anything to get him back. He is the man who makes love to me so gently, and the man who wields magic without thought. Your appearance, whether this man who sits in front of me, or the Dark One, it matters ...not at all. I fell in love with the Dark One, remember? If you insist on separating the two, then I would say I love you both."

He looked both stunned and in awe. "You forgot something."

Belle smirked. "Did I?"

He nodded. "I am also the man who loves you," he said, leaning forward and kissing her gently. She sighed and the kiss deepened until they were clinging to one another. When they broke apart some minutes later a genuine smile covered his face. "Do you know what today is, my Belle?"

She stared at him, genuinely confused. "Tuesday?"

He stood and offered her a hand. "No. Well, okay, yes, but not only that." She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet and in to a hug, wrapping her in his arms. "Today is your birthday."

Belle was stunned. Was it really? She honestly had no idea. She looked at Rum and realized her lack of memory was easily explained. She had everything she wanted standing in front of her. "I have need of nothing, Rum. I have what I want."

He giggled. It had been a long time since she'd heard that high-pitched giggle. She found she had missed it. "We're celebrating. In style. So meet me here in two hours."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" she asked, making a face.

He grinned. "Nope." He kissed her on the nose, grasped her hand and unfurled her from his body like a dancer. She spun away, and shaking her head, walked to her rooms.

#

Two hours later, Belle was standing on the landing of the stairs leading to the dining room unable to move any further. It wasn't magic, just dumb struck awe. The great room had been transformed. A fire still burned brightly in the grate, but the couch and chairs were gone. Rum's spinning wheel, straw and spools of gold were also gone. The room was illuminated as it had been the first day she'd come here. Candlelight from dozens of candelabras seemed to glisten in the darkness. It was strange. She remembered how frightened she'd been that night, and how foreboding the slight illumination of the candles had made the castle seem. Since then, it had become her home, and instead of a sense of lifeless danger, it was warm and inviting ...and romantic. The giant table had been pushed against the far wall; a smaller table with two chairs had been set near the fireplace. It was stunning, as was the man waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He had on black leathers and boots that came up to his knees. His shirt could, perhaps literally, have been made of gold. It glimmered and sparkled in the light of the room. He had put a black vest over the top of the shirt that fit snugly enough to show the lean muscle in his chest but still allowed for the billowing sleeves of the shirt to cascade down his arms. The golden shirt brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and made them seem almost the gold they had been when he was still cursed. He was, without a doubt, a beautiful man.

Rumplestiltskin stared up at a woman he did not recognize. He had left a gown on the bed and when he'd purchased it he'd thought it would look lovely on her ...he had not counted on it transforming her. It was gold, much like the one she arrived in, but it had red highlights that in the flickering candlelight made it look like a flame as she moved. Her clear, blue eyes were shining, and she blushed slightly as he stood there staring, unable to speak. He shook himself, trying not to wonder why a beauty such as this one would ever love him, and walked up the stairs to offer her his arm.

"It's lovely, Rum," she said, kissing him gently.

He stood there, staring into her eyes, and stroked her cheek with soft, warm fingers. His eyes never left hers. "Yes, it most certainly is."

She blushed again. "I meant the room."

He proffered his arm. "I didn't."

She took his arm and allowed him to escort her to the ground floor. He led her to the table by the fire and pulled out a chair. She sat down and he sat next to her. It had to be the most romantic thing she'd ever done. It was literally a scene right out of some of the books she'd read. They were mostly silent as they ate, neither really eating much. Yes, it was her birthday, but Rum had been nervous all day, and there was something else going on besides this. He pushed his plate away and picked up his wine glass. He was watching her over the top of it just as he had been this afternoon.

She broke first. "Would you please tell me what's going on?"

He raised a hand and music started playing softly through the hall. "Dance with me?"

Belle was in full on romance mode as she took his hand and he pulled her to the middle of the floor and up against his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her in a slow waltz. Of all the things she thought Rum could do, this had not been one of them. "Where did you learn to dance?"

He laughed. That wonderful, rumbling laugh that shook his chest. "I grew up in poverty, sweetheart. Dancing was what we did for fun." She felt like maybe she should apologize until he slowed down, pulled her closer, and simply swayed to the music. He leaned down and kissed her softly. "Don't pity me, Belle. It was not a horrible childhood. Besides, everything that has happened to me has led me here, to this moment, to you."

Belle leaned her head back enough to look at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too. In fact, I very much to want to show you that every day for the rest of our lives. How would you feel about that?"

It took Belle several moments of looking into his eyes before she realized what he was asking her. Her throat closed up and her eyes started to burn. "Oh." She could feel the tears being to roll down her face. "Oh gods ...Rum ..."

He wiped a tear from her cheek. "I'm not an expert, but I'm fairly certain that the idea of spending your life with someone is not supposed to make you cry."

Belle burst in to tears and threw her arms around his neck, simply holding on to him. The reality of his love was more than she could stand. "I already promised you forever."

He wrapped her in his strong arms and held her close. "Yes you did, I just want to make it official. Marry me, Belle. I cannot imagine my world without you in it." When he reached in his pocked and pulled out a ring, the tears came again. He held it up, but did not give it to her. "You haven't answered me."

She leaned forward and kissed him softly. Her voice was a whisper. "Of course I will marry you. I don't know that I could exist without you."

Rumplestiltskin took Belle's hand and put a stunning gold and diamond ring on her ring finger. "You are mine now."

Belle laughed. "I was always yours."


	43. The Storm Before The Calm

Rumplestiltskin looked down into the great room from a perch in the tower outside his lab. There were ...people ...lots of people wandering about his home. Word had reached ...he was fairly certain, given the sheer amount of people in the room below, pretty much everyone. As he was still 'human', the word was that Belle had met a close relative of Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One and they had fallen in love. The entire realm, apparently, had been simply stunned that the Dark One had not killed his relative and had instead agreed to allow them to have their wedding in the castle.

It would appear that every, single person Rumplestiltskin would prefer to never have to deal with again was now in his home. Among them were Lord Avonlea, Gaston, Lord Maurice and King George. To his great relief, Regina had not decided to put in an appearance. She would know, of course, that Belle was marrying the Dark One, but she was clearly still licking her wounds. Perhaps she believed Belle to be so far gone that he was trying to get rid of her. She would, in fact, be more likely to believe that than Belle and himself wanting to solidify their union. He sighed. This was a disaster just waiting to happen. On more levels than he could count. And the sad thing was ...Belle had agreed with him that their wedding should be small. Himself, Belle, her father, a few friends from Northland Castle and they would have been fine. The information that Rumplestiltskin was opening his castle for a wedding had spread like wildfire and it had become apparent fairly quickly that a small wedding was out of the realm of possibility.

Granted, it was their own fault for putting a general invitation out to Lord Maurice. Rumplestiltskin had wrongly assumed most people would be so frightened to step foot in the Dark Castle that they would stay away. Safety in numbers, he guessed.

There was a knock on the door and Belle came in calling his name. He dropped to the flagstone from the tower to meet her in the lab. When she saw his face, she sighed. "I'm sorry, Rum. I had no idea my father would invite the entire realm."

He pulled her into his arms and tucked her head under his chin. "I don't believe he did, sweetheart. People heard the invitation was open and decided to show up. I underestimated how curious they might be. I would imagine they will be most disappointed when the Dark One does not make an appearance."

Belle laughed. "Oh ...I hadn't thought of that. They'll be devastated." That only made her laugh more until he had no choice but to join her.

He leaned down and kissed her. "Should you not be dressing?"

"Oh, yes, if my maids, whom my father felt he must bring with him, had their way I would be sitting in a room being powdered, and polished and waxed until I couldn't feel my skin. Can we not just send them all away?" She sounded nervous.

He smiled. "I can. Shall I?" His eyes glistened with mischief and she smacked him.

"That is not what I mean," she said, trying to sound stern and failing. "I just meant ...tell them the wedding's off and they should go home and never bother the Dark One again."

"Is the wedding off?" he asked and although he was asking in jest his voice still shook slightly. Had she changed her mind?

Belle shook her head. "Of course not."

The door slammed open and they both turned. Regina stood there in full, sparkling, queenly regalia. "How precious." She waved a hand at Rumplestiltskin. "Relative? Surely you didn't think I would let that pass."

Rumplestiltskin stiffened. "Get out, Regina, before I put you out."

The Queen shook her head and walked closer to Belle. "I don't know how you did it, but I am impressed. The books of blood seem to have had little effect on her."

"'Her' is standing in front of you and capable of speech." Belle bristled.

Regina waved her off. "Yes, yes, of course. Shall I tell them, or would you like to do the honors? The Dark One, powerless, stripped of his magic by True Love." She sneered. "Pathetic." Belle and Rumplestiltskin exchanged a look and Regina continued. "Never you mind. I'll be sure everyone knows just how vulnerable you are, Rumple."

Belle raised a hand. "Get out."

"Are you threatening me?" The Queen laughed. "I'll admit you caught me by surprise once. I suggest you don't think for a moment you can do it again."

Belle stood her ground. "Last chance. Get out of my home."

Regina barely moved, but Belle went flying across the room, slamming heavily in to the far wall. Rumplestiltskin ran to her side, but it was too late. Her head hung at an impossible angle, her eyes open and fixed on something not of this world. He knelt there, the pain hammering in his chest, magic filling him up until when he looked back, Regina gasped and took a step away. "That's impossible."

The Dark One stood, his anger, pain and rage overwhelmed him and he took it out in the most painful way he could manage. He raised an arm and slammed Regina into the ceiling, her head burst open, spraying the room with things that should never be seen outside someone's body. When she hit the floor, her legs crumbled into skin and dust. So enraged was Rumplestiltskin that he couldn't seem to stop. He pulverized her until there was only a skin sack filled with fragments of bone left behind.

#

He started awake, looking around and reaching for Belle simultaneously. He was covered in sweat. Belle felt his movements and woke. "Rum?"

"Belle?" When his hand touched her and she was warm, and responsive, his entire body shuddered.

She sat up and wrapped her arms around him. His lips came crashing down onto hers, desperate, seeking, wanting. She'd no idea what was going on, but she responded to his touch as she always did. Encircling his shoulders with her arms and running her fingers up through damp hair at the nape of his neck. He ravished her, needing to touch every inch of her body, kissing his way from her neck to her navel and lower until Belle moaned and was forced to release him. He kissed the inside of her thigh and her body tightened. This was new and unexplored territory and while she trusted him completely, both inside and outside the bedroom, she couldn't help her slight apprehension. What was he doing? He pushed her backward, laying her out before him and caught the look on her face. Lust, love, a little fear …he buried his head between her legs and tasted her. Her gasp of pleasure transformed in to a moan as he plundered with both tongue and fingers, always gentle, always careful. As he stroked her sensitive core over and over she writhed, grasping his hair, unsure if she wanted to pull him away so that she might have him inside her properly or just let him continue what he was doing.

She bucked, and he grasped her hips, holding her down, kissing, nibbling, sucking and she could only hold on to him. She could feel the climax building in her center. She was so close ...gods so fucking close to exploding, and she wanted it, wanted him in a way she'd never felt before now. She tried to press closer to his searching tongue and he wouldn't allow it, holding her still, taking his fill, pressing one finger to her nub and another inside her, exchanging that for his tongue, searching every inch of that area until he was certain he had tended to it all. Belle's body was thrumming with want so strong it was painful and she whimpered, needing him inside her, wanting to feel him fill her. And still he did not relent. He pressed slightly harder, a little deeper, faster until Belle was unable to breathe properly. She gasped in great gusts of air, as if trying to fill her lungs and found herself unable.

The climax hit her suddenly and hammered through her body, bending her spine, causing her to cry out and he was on her; in her, an instant later, riding it out with her while he thrust his body inside her with abandon. She knew it was coming again, didn't know if she had the strength left in her to do it again, but as he clutched at her waist, pulled her up to meet him with every desperate movement, she felt it build, felt him become erratic, pushing harder and faster, climbing to his knees and lifting her off the bed to meet him; so hard she could feel the edge of pain that might be there were there not so much pleasure involved. He made a harsh sound in his throat, gasping as his body exploded inside her and it took only that sound to push her over the edge once more. He didn't stop as they came together, his body still rigid, his need still very much there. Belle was caught in a whirlwind of pleasure and could only make a half-hearted attempt to sit up before he pressed her back to the bed, pulled her arms over her head and held her there, his body still pumping in and out of her, wanting her, needing her, unable to stop now that he'd begun. She released any semblance of control she might have had to the man above her, letting him thrust into her with reckless abandon, knowing full well that this was going to hurt come the morning, and unable to find it within her to care. She heard him grunt, press in harder, and he came again, hard, shuddering, his body covered with sweat. He gasped, dropping to the bed to one side of her, unable to move any further. He was still halfway on top of her, but the majority of his weight had been shifted. He released her hands and tried to breathe as Belle wrapped him in her arms as best she could. She wasn't quite capable of movement either. They lay like that for some time, neither capable of actual movement beyond petting one another, trying to catch their breath.

When finally Rum was able to roll on to his back, he pulled Belle with him, pressing her to his side, kissing her face, her temple, her lips, and trembling as he tasted each one. He looked on her with concern. "Are you okay? Gods ...Belle ...I'm ..."

She silenced him with a kiss of her own, full of tongues and teeth and not allowing for any kind of apology for something that wonderful. "Don't you dare say you're sorry for that. It was ..." she sighed and stroked his face, "wonderful. Want to tell me what happened?"

He cupped her face in his hands, staring into too blue eyes, "I had a nightmare. You ...Regina ...you were ...gods Belle. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She thought she understood, at least to a certain extent. "You won't ever have to find out."

The haunted look in his eyes began to lift as he watched her. "You're mine."

She laughed. They had been through this earlier, but she was happy to go through it again. "I have always been yours, Rumplestiltskin. Since I was a child. When I was only 12 I knew I could never love anyone but you. No matter what lay beyond the shadows you insisted on shrouding yourself in, I still loved you. The kindness, the gentle touch, the way you were always there when so many others were not. You have been my rock for a very long time." She didn't know if that was what he needed to hear, but it was the truth.

He took a deep breath and pulled her close, cradling her body with his own. "Never leave me, Belle."

"Nothing in this world could keep us apart, Rum." She tilted his face up to look into her eyes. "Not even death itself. Do you understand?"

He nodded, and sighed, pulling her closer. "Do I worry too much?"

Belle smiled. "Perhaps, but I worry too."

"About what? I'm immortal, my Belle. I'm not going anywhere." He looked so genuinely confused that Belle laughed softly.

"I worry that you will tire of me. That I won't be a good wife. That I won't be a good ..." she sighed.

He eyes softened. "A good what?"

"Mother," she said, and buried her face in his chest.


	44. Darkest Before The Dawn

Rumplestiltskin lay in his bed, his arms wrapped around his fiance, and for all the world couldn't think of one damn thing to say. He teetered on the edge between complete shock and jubilant laughter. Half of him wanted to curl into a ball and ignore what Belle had just told him and the other half felt the overwhelming desire to crow from the rooftops. A child? A child. A child! He was going to be a father ...again. In spite of everything he had done in his life, despite letting his soul sink into the very depths of absolute darkness, he was being given this gift. He had believed himself blessed when he'd realized that Belle was determined to love him. He had clearly not understood what 'blessed' truly meant. He paused. Could that statement have been rhetorical? Was that her way of asking him if he wanted children at all? Crap ...had he misread this entire situation?

He kissed the top of Belle's head and said the first thing that came to mind. "You are going to be a wonderful mother, my Belle."

Her head lifted that she might look him in the eye, her own filled with a filmy haze of worry and fear. "You're not angry?"

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes against an onslaught of emotions. He felt so many things. Would he screw up this child? Would it find a fate similar to Bae's and leave him alone? But, he was not alone anymore, was he? Would the birth of a child cause her to grow tired of him? Tired of his magic? Would something that Milah had so very much wanted cause the only True Love he'd ever known to walk away? And yet, on the heels of the doubt, concern and fear was a bubbling happiness at the prospect of holding a child in his arms again. To know that even with a soul corrupted by darkness, he could still create something so pure. He let the overwhelming joy fill his eyes as he looked at her. "Gods, Belle. No. No! Of course I'm not angry." He offered her a lecherous grin and raised an eyebrow. "If memory serves, and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong; I was a willing participant in the actions that caused this."

She giggled. "More than willing, I should think."

He pulled her closer. "A baby. Our baby." A genuine smile spread across his face. "Can you see us, Belle? Me and you with Baelfire and our other 12 children sitting at the table in the great hall."

Belle laughed slighly nervously. "Twelve?"

"Starting with this one." He ran a hand over her stomach. He was so caught up in the moment that when reality finally descended upon him, he was nearly sick. He shot up in bed and had to create a glass of water to sip from. It prevented hims from retching. His entire body felt like ice. How could he possibly have forgotten the Volumes de Sanguine? Germain? The very real possibility that learning the magic contained within the books would take too long and Belle would die ...and if she died, she would take their child with her.

She felt it when he tensed and sat up. She followed. "What's wrong?" She placed a hand flat on his back, rubbing in small circles. "Rum?"

He gave her a half-hearted smile. "I just worry too much, I think."

"About me?" she asked, unsure why he would be worried.

"I've never had need to wonder if magic, especially blood magic, would be harmful to a child, Belle. I simply don't know and I've no idea who to ask." He sighed. "Not that we can avoid it. Germain will be back, and we must learn to use those books."

Belle shrugged. "Can we not just wait until after the baby is born?"

Rumplestiltskin's heart dropped. He lay back down and pulled her against him. He was trembling. "No, we can't. I should have told you this before but ..." he paused and then stopped altogether, unable to continue.

"You can tell me anything. You know that, right?" Belle's voice was like silk on his skin in the darkness and he took a moment to say a silent prayer to every god he'd ever heard of that she actually meant what she said.

He rolled on to his side so he could look into her eyes. "The spell that allowed for you to get past the withdrawal ..." he stopped again and Belle touched his face gently, silently encouraging but never demanding he tell her what was troubling him so very much. "It's not permanent, Belle. It's ...a patch. It will keep the withdrawal away allowing for you to learn the magic in the books."

Belle had a very bad feeling. "And if I don't?"

He lowered his eyes, and then raised them again. He had to face this; had to deal with it because she was going to need him. "You'll die."

"And so will our child." Belle was finally catching on. He watched in utter desolation as tears built in her eyes and began to slide down her cheeks. "There are 100 books in that wardrobe, Rum. How ...oh gods ...how am I supposed to learn all that? And then even if I do manage to learn it what if the magic is bad for the baby?"

He heard the panic beginning to edge into her voice and pulled her close, literally enveloping her with his body and pressed soft kisses into her hair. "Together, that's how we're going to learn all of that. We'll talk to Germain and see if he has any precedence for this. He wrote the damn things, he would be the only one capable of telling us if any harm will come to our child." He kissed her temple. "Try not to worry, sweetheart. We will get through this. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He lay his hand on her stomach. "Either of you."

She glanced up, into his face, and it was that simple. He would protect them both as he had always protected her. He would not see harm come to either the baby or Belle herself. She knew this with such utter certainty that she nodded. "I know."

He kissed her nose. "So. Marriage. You, me, a cleric, Sylvia ...your father." On the last name he shuddered and Belle laughed; swatting at him.

"You didn't want to wait?" She wouldn't blame him if he did. If she died, what was the point of getting married?

He gave her a lopsided grin. "No. I don't wish to wait. For one thing, I love you and I want you to be mine not only in your heart, but legally. For another ...well, I did knock you up." Belle smirked and shook her head as he continued. "It would be grievously wrong of me to force you to raise our child alone ...okay, granted in the same house, but this castle is very big." He grinned at her and she laughed again. Only Rum ...only her Rum, could make her laugh when not one, but two lives hung in the balance. His tone dropped and he became more serious. "Also ...the more tightly we are bound, the better the chance that should anything happen, I can act as a tether."

Belle raised her eyebrows in question. "Tether?"

"Yes. The closer we get the better. If our souls are one, Belle, then should you fall, I can pull you back up. The same goes for you," he said. "If something happens to me while we are learning this magic, you will have the ability to pull me up."

"Are we not already close?" she asked, pressing against him to prove her point.

He groaned and grasped her waist. "I'm over 300 woman ...you're going to wear me out."

"I somehow doubt that," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"As far as I'm concerned, we cannot possibly get too close. When Germain comes back I want him to see us so tightly bound that we cannot be separated. Not physically; not mentally." His voice was raspy and tight with need, but there was an undercurrent of ...Belle couldn't quite put a finger on it. She could hear it clearly in both his tone and what he was saying but ...oh, damn, it was annoying. She knew it was important, something he should tell her and was not, but it was just out of reach.

Belle shook it off. It would come to her eventually and this was a night for celebration. They should not be dwelling on what might be, especially something they couldn't control. She knew that regular magic, while it did tend to make unborn children restless in their mothers wombs, did not cause any harm. She would simply have to hope that blood magic was, at least in essence, the same. Their daughter was going to be fine. Daughter? She stopped laughing and looked at Rum.

He had reclined back against the pillows and was watching her with hooded eyes. The expression on her face brought him back to full awareness. "What is it?"

"A girl." She said it so simply, so confidently, that he was confused for a moment.

"I don't under ..." He stopped when the realization hit him. "Oh! Really? Are you sure? How do you know? A girl? We're having a daughter?"

She stemmed the tide of his questions. "Yes, Rumplestiltskin, we are having a daughter. I don't know how I know that, but I am absolutely certain."

He smirked. "Can we name her Rumplestiltskin Jr.?" he asked mostly in jest, but there was also a tiny bit of hope in his eyes.

Belle made a face. "No. I'm not even going to make a joke about it, Rum. Just no."

"Fine." He looked down at the bed covers and simply sat there in silence.

Belle started laughing. "Are you sulking? Really?"

He looked back up, turned around and pounced on her. She squealed like a school girl and tried to squirm out from under him. They were both laughing so hard tears were streaming down their faces. He kissed her hungrily and the laughter died away as desire filled them. They made love slowly this time. Tender touches, gentle hands, soft words spoken in low voices. It was beautiful and wonderful and filled up something in Belle's heart she hadn't realized was empty.

Rumplestiltskin opened his eyes and stared at the beauty laying beneath him. "Belle?"

Her eyes opened and she smiled, trailing her hands down the sides of his neck, across his chest and down his abdomen. She leaned up to kiss him, but he stopped her. "Do you give your life to me, my Belle?"

It seemed a strange question, considering what they were doing, but she answered honestly. "Yes."

"No matter what may come to pass? Your life, your soul, your heart ...do you give them willingly?"

"Yes, of course," she said with a little concern. It sounded ...almost rehearsed.

He closed his eyes and drew her closer to him. "I give you my life, my soul and my heart. Always. Willingly. That we never be parted ..." he paused and Belle felt her entire body tingling.

Rumplestiltskin sighed with what sounded like relief and thrust himself, slowly, as deeply inside her as he could. Both of them gasped in the thrall of whatever was happening, and he shuddered. His breath was coming in gasps as he pushed her ever closer to the edge. Her mind went blank, forgetting the strange sensation of seconds before. She cried out, grasping on to his shoulders to prevent her body from shaking apart as the climax hit her. He said one last word. "Forever."

Belle felt limp, as if she couldn't get her muscles to work properly. Rum was not much better. He lay face down on the bed, one arm slung over her stomach. She was fairly certain he was asleep. Belle could feel herself passing in to sleep as well. She had never had a reaction this severe. What had just happened? What could cause this overwhelming exhaustion? Belle paused her thinking for a moment. Magic. Magic always drained energy. Good gods, what had he done? Her mind returned to what he had said earlier about them tethering themselves together. Is that what he'd done? Had the words they'd both spoken been a spell that joined them on the deepest possible level? And what did that mean? If their souls were truly one soul, their hearts one heart, they were quite literally bound together, for he could not live without the part of her that now beat inside his chest. It was the same for her. In her heart, she had felt it when he had given part of himself away. She reached out and touched his hair, reveling in the soft brown curls she loved so much. "Oh, Rum ...what have you done?"


	45. A Wedding

This time he was awake. This time the people roaming about the castle were confined to the first floor hallway and the great room. This time they were all servants going about setting up the room for an impending wedding, save four. Well, five if he was counting himself, which he wasn't. Lord Maurice and Lydia had arrived earlier in the day and while the Duke of Northland Castle paced, Lydia had taken control of the excessive decorating and baking that seemed to be taking place. Rumplestiltskin sighed. He still hated the fact that there were people in their home. Belle seemed to find his distress amusing.

They had gone over a cover story to explain his appearance early that morning. It was actually Belle who had stopped him from rambling on about a mishap in the lab which had caused his current state and stated that he simply needed to say he'd changed himself for the benefit of the guests and the cleric. It would not do to frighten a man of the cloth half to death. Gods knew, it had been difficult enough to find one willing to marry the cursed Dark One to any unfortunate woman, and then convince that person to come to the Dark Castle. Fortunately, the nearest village which fell under the protection of the Dark One had exactly one open minded cleric who had stated simply that all people, no matter their past or present actions, should be allowed happiness. And while he had questioned Belle ...at length, in the end he had realized she was nothing more or less than hopelessly in love.

The young cleric now stood in the great room looking about as happy as Belle's father. Clearly, this was not something Maurice had ever believed could happen. When, a week ago, he'd received word from his daughter that she was to marry Rumplestiltskin he had immediately believed her either coerced or in thrall. He had not conceded to the union until he had seen Belle for himself. It was fairly clear that she was in love with Rumplestiltskin and while he still had no idea how the Dark One had managed to achieve this ...he'd given up questioning it several days ago. Belle knew her own mind. She always had.

Lydia had been delighted, though Rumplestiltskin could not begin to imagine why. He suspected that Belle had told her closest friend that her 'other man' had been him all along, but he was unsure and didn't really think it mattered. She had sent him away to 'prepare' several hours ago, staunchly refusing to let him see Belle again until she was presented to him by her father. They had agreed to a wedding that was partly magical, in honor of the groom and partly traditional, in honor of the bride. The magic had made the cleric skittish, but he had held his ground and remained anyway.

Rumplestiltskin paced around his lab. He had no idea what he was supposed to 'prepare.' He had taken a bath without Belle which had just been strange as he was so used to them bathing together, and then donned black leathers, a white tunic and a black robe with gold thread running through it causing it to shimmer when he moved. It was Belle's favorite. Once those things were done and he had shaved for the first time in nearly 300 years (and what an adventure that had been), he was at a loss. If there was more he needed to do, he didn't know what it was. Belle had stated point blank that yes, he would, in fact, be wearing a wedding ring although many men did not. She had apparently given his ring a great deal of time, thought and effort. Given that, he had created a companion ring that would fit over her engagement ring. It was a simple, thin, gold band. He hoped it was enough. He hoped she wasn't disappointed. Either in the wedding, or in him. She had given no sign that she was, but it always seemed inevitable that he was going to lose her; that she would eventually tire of him and leave. It was something that had plagued him his entire adult life. He had lost everyone he'd loved over the course time. Why should Belle be any different? He shook himself out of his melancholy and left the lab to join Maurice and the cleric in the great room. Assuming she actually showed up, it was almost time for him to marry Belle and there was nothing he could think of that he wanted more.

#

Lydia had just finished putting flowers in her hair when Belle exploded. "What am I doing? We were perfectly happy before. He's going to hate me for forcing him to actually marry me. Why couldn't I have just been happy with the way we were? This is a disaster."

Lydia waited patiently until Belle was calm again, and then went back to work. "Do you feel better now?"

Belle huffed. "Yes. No. Kind of. Am I making a mistake?"

Her friend smiled at her with affection tinged with sadness. "Take the happiness while you can, Belle. You never know how long it will last."

"Of course you're right," Belle said, taking Lydia's hand and squeezing. "I wish Clemson could be here."

Lydia turned Belle around to face her. "He will be. I know Clem ...you marrying the Dark One?" She paused and corrected herself. "Sorry, Rumplestiltskin. Clem wouldn't miss this for anything."

At this, Belle laughed. "You are definitely right about that." Her face grew serious. "My father hates him, the cleric is afraid of him, you are the only one who has been accepting of him. Thank you."

Lydia winked. "Your father will not take off his blinders and see the love in that man's face. He wants to believe that Rumplestiltskin forced you in to this and that will probably never change. Even after 25 years and several children."

Belle smirked. "Rum said twelve."

There was a burst of laughter and then Lydia composed herself. "Guess you'll be busy then."

They both laughed, Lydia did several more things to Belle's hair and then nudged her toward the door. "It's time."

Belle was suddenly nauseous. She wasn't at all sure she could go through with this. What if this is not what he wanted? What if he just felt this way because of the baby? Would he change his mind and send everyone away? Gods, why hadn't she just left well enough alone? She trudged to the door and together, she and Lydia walked to the top of the stairs leading in to the great room. Her father was waiting for her on the landing. "Papa?"

Lord Maurice turned and gasped. This was not his daughter. This woman could not possibly be the little girl he'd watched grow up. She gave him a tentative smile. "You look beautiful, my girl." He proffered his arm. "Shall we?"

Belle took a breath, accepted her fathers arm and together they descended the stairs into the great room.

Rumplestiltskin stood near the fireplace with the cleric. He was fidgeting, and he knew it. He wondered if he was dressed appropriately, he wondered if Belle was having second thoughts; he wondered if this was truly what she wanted. To be married, legally bound, to him ...to ...to something so evil, so dark, so ...flawed. What could he offer her? Death? Pain? He was really starting to get into the groove of his self doubt when the cleric nodded toward the stairs. He turned, and every thought he had fled his mind.

A stunning woman wearing a soft looking white, satin gown, threaded along the seams with gold was walking toward him. Every movement caused something else on the dress to catch the light, making her seem almost angelic. She had hold of Maurice; her knuckles were white. She looked up and their eyes met. Inside those clear, sapphire eyes, Rumplestiltskin could see his Belle. Her hair had been plaited and threaded through with flowers of yellow that emphasized the golden thread in the dress. She was light to his darkness, sun to his shadow, and yet no matter how different they seemed, they still managed to compliment one another.

She was simply breathtaking and he watched in stunned awe as she approached him. Her eyes never left his; taking strength from the love she could see there. He didn't even bother trying to look away. He knew he wouldn't be able to. No one ...not even his wife, had ever looked at him as she was looking at him now. Her face was flushed, her love for him shining out of those amazing eyes. As they reached him, and Maurice offered her hand to him, he felt something building in his chest. Not panic, not fear ...it was anticipation layered with deep contentment. Despite everything they had been through together, and everything that was to come, he could clearly see that this woman actually wanted him, wished to be with him, actually loved him ..and it took his breath away.

He accepted her hand and together they turned toward the cleric who was smiling. "As requested by the bride and groom, this wedding is a blessing and a contract." He held up two ribbons, one gold and one black. "While many may not believe everyone deserves happiness, I disagree. When the gods see fit to grant us joy, however that comes about, we should feel duty bound to celebrate it, to honor it, to acknowledge it in every possible way." He looked at Rum and Belle. "Join your right hands together."

Belle and Rum reached for one another, stepping closer, and clasped their hands together. The cleric stepped forward and wrapped their joined hands in the black ribbon. "This ribbon is a representation of your love, Rumplestiltskin. That you will always offer it to this woman, without condition, your whole heart and soul." he paused and Rum smiled at Belle. The cleric took the gold ribbon and wrapped it over the black. "This ribbon is a representation of your love, Belle. That you will always offer it to this man, without condition, your whole heart and soul." He then nodded at Rumplestiltskin, who placed his free hand over their joined ones. There was a shimmer of silver, a tingling sensation, and this time Belle knew it for what it was. Magic.

"Now and to the end of time, my Belle. I am yours." The magic shuddered through them again, and then fell away.

She looked away from their hands and into his soft brown eyes, smiling at him. "Now and to the end of time, Rumplestiltskin, I am yours."

The cleric stepped away from them. "While it is unnecessary to exchange rings, Rumplestiltskin and Belle have chosen to do so." He nodded at Rum.

The room was empty as he looked into Belle's eyes. He saw nothing else, only her. And when he spoke, it was for her ...and no one else. He reached in to his pocket and pulled out the small golden ring he'd created earlier. "I do not begin to understand why you love me, Belle, or what I did to deserve it, but even though it has taken time, I accept it as reality ...a life I could not have expected or imagined. I offer you this ring as a vow and a promise. I will protect you, I will love you, if necessary I will die for you. You are my everything."

Belle's eyes had teared up. Gods, she loved this man. She pulled out the ring made by a local artist. She had told the woman what she'd wanted and this had been the result. Rumplestiltskin looked at it in question and she smiled. "There are times when words fail me because it is impossible to express in simple words how much I love you. How much you mean to me. How much I depend on your strength to keep me going every day. This ring represents both my love and this vow ..." She looked deep into his eyes. "We can make it through anything together." She put the ring on his finger and he gazed at it for several moments. It was cool, but not metal ...it was made of stone, he realized. On first appearance, it had looked solid black, but the more one looked at it, the more it changed. It was a perfect personification of him. A black ring that changed color when he moved it. Inside the black, he could see swirling reds, blues, greens. It was amazing. "Remember Rum," Belle said and he looked back up into her eyes. "Black is not a lack of color, but rather it is every color. While it may seem simple at first, upon closer examination, it has far too many aspects to ever clearly see them all."

They both glanced back at the cleric who was beaming at them. He stepped forward and unwound the gold ribbon, handing it to Rumplestiltskin. "That you remember always the vows you made this day." He then removed the black ribbon and handed it to Belle. "That you remember always the vows you made this day." When they had both acknowledged the presentation of the ribbons the cleric smiled. "Congratulations. I feel honored to have witnessed this today. It is clear to me, if to no one else, that both of you are willing to not only love, as that has already occurred, but to work to understand one another. A good life to you." And with that , he stepped away from them.

Rumplestiltskin looked back at his ...he smiled, he was looking at his wife. "I love you, Belle."

Her eyes were glowing with happiness. "I love you too, my husband."

He leaned forward and covered her lips with his own. They stood there, husband and wife, and clung to one another. No one else in the world existed in that moment.


	46. The Day Before the Day Before

"Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you've never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more." Bob Marley

The servants were gone, the cleric was gone, Lord Maurice and Lydia had been relegated to rooms on the opposite side of the castle, and everything was finally, blessedly, silent. Rumplestiltskin stood in the great room, a fire blazing, soft music playing and holding the woman he loved in his arms. They had been dancing, but now simply swayed gently to the beat, holding on to one another. He tried to think back over the years. Tried to remember if, aside from the birth of his son, he'd ever been quite this happy, or blessed. He was fairly certain the answer was no. Things like this simply didn't happen to him. People like Belle did not fall in love with monsters. He was not sure he would ever truly wrap his brain around the concept that she had not only fallen in love with him, but had married him ...legally ...in front of witnesses and was going to have his child. It was too much. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wanted to find something wrong, something that, perhaps, would go wrong in the future, something that would bring an end to his happiness, for if he knew nothing else, he knew that everything good he did had a tendency to backfire, and yet ...even as he sought that one thing that would bring this to an end, he found his mind empty. Had Belle not proven her love over and over? Yes, she had, more times than he could count. He simply didn't deserve her.

He felt a warm hand come up and caress his cheek gently. "You think too much." Her voice was soft, as to not break through the bubble of contentment that enveloped them.

He looked down at his wife ...his wife, and smiled. "Do I?"

Belle laughed. "I know that look. Would it help if I said that no matter what comes, from now until forever, we will face it together?"

Rumplestiltskin had no words to express his gratitude and instead pulled her closer, bringing her lips to his. He had not intended for it to go any further. After all, they had all night ...and the rest of their lives, to be together, but as her lips nibbled at his, and he began to explore her mouth with his own, he felt his body harden; screaming with need. Her fingers came up and buried themselves in the curls at the base of his neck. His hands roamed her body with abandon, not really having a specific path, but wanting to touch all of her at once. He found the zipper of the beautiful gown she wore and managed to unzip it with trembling fingers.

Belle gasped at the sudden influx of cool air on her back, and then his hands were there, warming her, pushing the gown over her shoulders until it hung at her waist. She might have taken a moment to lament the treatment of such a lovely dress, but he took a nipple into his mouth, suckling gently, and all thoughts of her clothing escaped her. He had discarded the black and gold robe some time ago, and as much as she loved him in this shirt …it was hindering her path. She pulled it free of his breeches, letting her hands roam over the front and stopped quite suddenly.

"What is it?" he asked. Unsure what he'd done.

"This shirt has no buttons." She sounded exasperated and frustrated.

He looked down and nodded. "That's true."

Belle's brain had shut off and was offering her only rudimentary information. How to unbutton a shirt, for example, was there in her mind. How to deal with a shirt that had no buttons, but was laced from his collar to the center of his chest was not. She plucked helplessly at the silken lace holding the shirt in place and preventing her from touching his skin oblivious to the fact that she was naked to the waist. She watched in a sort of lustful fascination as his fingers loosened the cord at the top, near his adams apple and pulled it slowly from one hole to the next, exposing a little more flesh as it became looser. Belle bit her bottom lip as the cord finally came free of the shirt.

She had to stop doing that, he decided as she reached out and took the cord from his hands. If she kept biting her lip they were not going to make it to the bedroom. She grasped the bottom of his shirt, pulled it over his head and tossed it behind her; her eyes wandering over his body as if he were prey. And frankly, if she was the stalker, he would happily do whatever it was she wanted. He started to protest, started to say they were in an overly public area of a house that still had people in it besides themselves and as much as he would like to make love to her here, in this room, damn anyone who considered coming in here, he knew how embarrassed she would be ...and well, her father would likely have a heart attack. Some things, although you knew your children did them, were better left unseen and never thought about. "Belle ..."

And then her mouth came into contact with his chest; started making it's way down from his clavicle to his belt, and he had no words left. Surely her family wasn't stupid enough to come in here considering the fact that the newlyweds had barely noticed when they'd left in the first place. Belle was working at his belt, pulling it free of his pants, tossing it in the general direction of his shirt and opening his breeches so she could lay kisses all around him, but not on him. It was maddening, his body shook with the need for her to touch, to caress, to ...something, and yet she did not. She stood and backed him in to the giant table they had pushed against the wall for the wedding. When had she become this forward? She started to drop back down for better access, but he grabbed her, pulling her back up and showering her face with kisses. Had they not both been almost entirely nude, the scene would appear almost chaste. She struggled with her dress, pushing it down until she could step out of it and then returned to press against his body.

They were like that for several moments. Skin to skin, bodies straining for release, for the pleasure that came with being together, lips and tongues dancing. "I need you, Rum." Her voice was raspy; deeper than it normally was, sexy, and he could no more deny her this than refuse to breathe. He lifted her in his arms, leaning back against the table and pressed against her. It was awkward at best, and he couldn't seem to balance enough to take her. Belle gasped when she felt him moving against her, seeking entrance and unable to find it. She wrapped her legs around his waist and it was enough. He found her center and thrust deeply inside her, the only thing holding her up were his strong arms wrapped around her. He groaned, taking her mouth with his once more and turning them to allow himself more movement; better access. His entire body shuddered as he pressed her against the table and moved within her, slowly at first, growing faster as he became used to the position. He lay a hand between her breasts, pushing gently, laying her back so her could pull her body to his and join with her in furious thrusts until she grasped his forearms and left scratches down the length. He didn't care. Their bodies moved together in passion they'd not shared before. While one spoke of love and trust, this spoke of forever, it spoke of eternity, it spoke of something that could not be broken or lost. A love that truly was unconditional and never ending.

He came only moments after she cried out and shuddered around him. Her name was on his lips when their world shattered around them.

They both started as a wind louder than anything they'd ever heard whistled through the castle and on the edge of it, a whisper of magic. Rumplestiltskin looked up, seeing the swirling of purple outside the windows. He pulled Belle to her feet and where she had been lost to passion only moments before, she was alert now. He bent over and grabbed her dress, handing it to her as he pulled on his own clothing.

"What's going on? Rum?" Belle sounded panicked and she had every right. They could both hear the turrets giving way, as the purple storm sought entrance to the Dark Castle.

He shook his head. This was not supposed to happen yet. Was it? Had he lost track of time or had Regina figured out the puzzle without him?

The tiles of the ceiling started to come away and Belle screamed. Rumplestiltskin grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the stairs. They had to get to the lab, he had to be sure the books of blood came with them. He didn't pause to consider that the books might not work, or that they would not be able to learn them ...nor remember they needed to learn them, he just knew they had to take them. He threw open the door to the lab as the storm began peeling the roof back like a sardine can. He put one hand on the cabinet, the other hand grasped hold of Belle and half a second later they were sucked into the purple vortex.

#

Storybrooke, Maine 2011

Mr. Gold checked the lock on the door of his shop for the third time. He sighed. Still locked. Perhaps he was becoming obsessive compulsive in his old age? He walked down the street to the library as he did just about every day. Granted, he did read awfully fast, but he'd been doing this for months and Rose French had shown no signs whatsoever that she had any interest in him. And why should she? He was so much older than she was. She could pretty much pick any man in the town; yet ...she never had. He'd like to think that was because of him, but honestly ...he sighed again. He was too old to be harboring a crush on a pregnant woman. He had to let it go.

He straightened his shoulders. He would return this book and ...what? Ask her out? Stop going there just so he could see her? Her father already gave him a death stare that said to fuck the hell off and gods knew Rose had enough problems. With not knowing who the father of the child she carried was or even remembering how she'd managed to end up pregnant to begin with, she had been in therapy for as long as he'd known her. He absolutely hated the people in this town who judged her for that and although he would never admit it, he had a great deal of respect for Dr. Hopper, who had been trying to help her with her memories. Rose had said it was something like selective amnesia and likely, the pregnancy was a result of a traumatic event. She had been horrified, however, when Hopper had suggested she terminate the pregnancy. That had made him care more than he probably should. He couldn't say why exactly, but something inside him felt like it would have shriveled and died if she had decided to get rid of the child she was carrying.

He opened the door and walked inside. She was there, behind the desk and although he was sure it must be his imagination, her eyes seemed to light up when he came in. "Mr. Gold. I didn't see you yesterday."

He nodded. "I wasn't quite finished." He held up the book in his hand.

"Well, what can I help you find now?" Her smile was radiant. She was simply stunning.

He stumbled over his words. "Oh ..I ...maybe ...I think I might ..."

The door slammed open and Gary Avonlea strolled in. Rose made a face. "Is it necessary to break the door when you walk in?"

His eyes roamed over her form and for all the world, Gold wanted to beat him senseless, but that was unlikely. He was exactly the kind of man Gold could see Rose with. Tall, strong, muscular, attractive. Everything he, himself, was not.

Gary leaned on the librarian's desk and looked at Rose. The boy made his teeth itch. "So, Rose, what do you say? Ashley and Sean are getting married and I need a date."

Rose, ever a kind and compassionate woman, closed her eyes briefly in frustration and then seemed to blurt out the first thing to come to mind. "Oh, well, Gary, I would but I've ...I've ..."

Gary raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I've already said I'd go with Mr. Gold," she blurted out, shooting him a look that said 'please help me.'

Gary and Gold spoke in unison. "What?"

Gold recovered and sauntered over to the counter, glancing at Rose for confirmation as he took her hand in his. He saw her give him a barely discernible nod. "Yes. You're slightly late." He held her eyes and felt something fluttering in his stomach. He was nervous. "This beautiful woman has already agreed to be my escort. And as I am fairly certain you cannot read, you may go now."

There was some flustered bravado, several threats and one or two witless insults before Gary went slinking out the door. Rose let out a breath of relief. "Thank you."

Gold smiled. "My pleasure. Here is my book." He bowed as he handed it to her and she giggled. He didn't know what it was, but something about that giggle was so familiar; it was like he had heard it a hundred times before.

He turned to leave, when she called him back. "Mr. Gold?"

He smirked. "Since we're dating and everything, I would imagine calling me Roman would be more appropriate."

She flashed him that brilliant smile that made his heart drop to his shoes. "Roman. I don't want to inconvenience you, but I actually do need an escort to Ashley and Sean's wedding."

His smile faded. "You do realize that the entire town hates me, do you not?"

Rose shook her head. "They do not hate you ...they don't know you. You, Roman, refuse to let people in. I know there is a kind and intelligent man in there."

"I think you give me more credit than I deserve, Miss French," he said, only half joking.

She considered him for a moment. "Or you don't give yourself enough, Mr. Gold. So ...will you go with me?"

He bowed again. "I would be delighted to escort you, my lady."

Rose blushed and giggled again. "Tomorrow at 6pm? Want to meet here?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." He left the library, a smile on his face. He tried to remember the last time he'd smiled ...and he couldn't.


	47. Pieces of Memories

At exactly six o'clock, he stood just inside the library door waiting for Rose to exit her apartment which was in the same building. He fidgeted. It wasn't that he didn't like wearing a tuxedo ...okay, yes it was exactly that he didn't like wearing a tuxedo. He had already forced himself in to suits so often he'd forgotten what it felt like to wear jeans, but this ...this was overkill. He actually wallowed in self pity for another four and a half seconds before he looked up and saw Rose walking toward him.

His instinct was to gasp ...and point for him, he managed to avoid that, but gods ...she was stunning. She had her dark hair pulled away from her face and piled on her head. A few tendrils had gotten loose from the hairpins and now framed her face in soft wisps. Her dress was a deep blue and it made her eyes almost translucent. He let his own eyes roam freely over her and watched a blush creep up her neck to cover her face. He shook his head. "You've nothing to be embarrassed about, Rose. You look absolutely beautiful." She actually turned a deeper shade of red and ducked those gorgeous eyes; unable or unwilling to look at him as she closed the distance between them.

"Thank you," she said when she reached him, her eyes still cast down at the floor. "You look beautiful too. Really nice ...I mean, handsome ...that tux is just ...well, shit." She had no idea what else to say. To say the man looked -oh my god- amazing in a tux would be an understatement. She'd clearly not payed enough attention to his build as he wore bulky suits and an overcoat all the time, but this tux was obviously designed and tailored specifically for him. It hugged his body like a glove and where she'd thought him thin she now saw the swells and ridges that indicated muscle, quite a bit of it. She hadn't realized how attractive he was. His longish collar-length brown hair fell into his face giving the brown eyes that peeked through a boyish sparkle. Rose was seized with a sudden urge to brush that hair away from his eyes. It was so strong that she had actually raised her hand before she caught herself. He raised a questioning eyebrow and she sighed. Way to not show any interest, Rose. She had a long standing pact with herself that she would not get involved with anyone until her memories returned ...if they ever did and so far, she'd been more than able to do that. Even though Roman came in to the library almost every day, he was always either checking out or returning a book and while she looked forward to the tiny amounts of time they shared in idle conversation, she had managed to keep him at arms length ...until now.

Soft laughter rumbled in his chest and he reached out using two fingers to tilt her head up so she would look at him. When blue eyes met brown something passed between them. For a moment, barely a second, an image of Rose wearing a blue dress entirely different from the one she was in and walking through what appeared to be some sort of ballroom flashed through his mind and then it was gone. She was also looking at him quizzically; had she a similar vision? He shook off the unsettling feeling and smiled. She grinned back and it made her eyes light up just as they did when he came into the library. Was it even remotely possible that she actually was interested in him? No. How ridiculous. He was old, grumpy and had a general dislike for everyone. Rose was the exception, but then they liked the same things. Books and antiques ...if he could sit with her and talk about only those two subjects for the rest of his days he thought he could be happy. The thought was strangely calming.

He proffered his arm and, with a grin, she took it. He guided her out to his car and they drove in a companionable silence all the way to the wedding.

#

Gold rolled his eyes ...again. This much sweetness was going to put in him a diabetic coma. Next to him, Rose dabbed at her face in a futile attempt to keep her makeup from running. He had no idea why people wept at weddings. This was supposed to be a happy day, was it not? Indeed, Sean and Ashley looked so happy he was surprised their heads didn't explode. Now that ...that would add some much needed excitement to these nuptials. So far, the most entertainment he'd had was when the minister asked the congregation if they knew of anyone would could testify that the pair not be joined in marriage and that should someone have such information they should speak now ...or forever hold their peace. He had just started to rise from his chair and "speak now or forever hold his peace" when Rose had grabbed the arm of his tuxedo jacket and pulled him back down. He had given her such a bored, hangdog look she had taken pity on him and laced their fingers together. Now he sat in a more cheerful yet bored out of his mind state and waited for this awful wedding to end.

At the front, the minister spoke. "While it is unnecessary to exchange rings, Ashley and Sean have chosen to do so."

Gold's head snapped up. His mind saw a pair of petite hands grasping his. A flash of black ...a stone ...no, something round, hollow ...a ring, a black ring of stone. He could almost feel it's weight on his finger and he felt a sudden and overwhelming loss. He shook his head slightly. What the hell was going on?

Rose glanced over at Roman again. She couldn't seem to keep her eyes to herself and as they appeared to be doing whatever the hell they wanted, they strayed to his face more often than they should. This wasn't a date ...she figured if she kept reminding herself she would understand. He was doing her a favor, that was all. They had become friends over time. His love of reading and learning unparalleled. She was, perhaps, the only person in town who was kind to him. She just wished people could see the man she saw. The soft spoken, caring, gentle man who handled each book as if it were a precious treasure, but with everyone else he presented a distant facade. He didn't want people too close, and they were more than happy to oblige. Everyone but her. She could feel the loneliness pouring out of him; had reached out to him in friendship and could only hope she brought some well deserved light into his world. She supposed him being here instead of holed up in his house, no matter how many people stared at them, was better for him than anything else. Rose had actively tried to get him involved with some of the activities around town to which she'd received a rousing 'Oh HELL no.' Undeterred, she had kept pushing him until he'd gone to help Mayor Mills with her election campaign. That had been an unmitigated disaster and he had returned to the library telling her in no uncertain terms to keep her nose out of his business. That he was perfectly happy being a reclusive hermit all the children were afraid of. Then again, he'd also stated he was going to dig a moat around his home and stock it with crocodiles.

It was at that moment she'd realized she was not going to be able to thrust him into society against his wishes. He would have to choose it. He would have to see how truly unhappy he was, how lonely, and what a good and loyal friend he could be. He had shown that side of himself to her ...why not the others?

The Wedding March exit began, what Roman called a 'funeral dirge', and she was jolted out of her thoughts to find a hand in her face. She looked up and Roman smirked. "I'm not an expert on wedding etiquette, but I'm pretty sure we're supposed to stand for this and act like we care."

Rose took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. When he didn't release her, she simply smiled and allowed him to lace their fingers together again. She could hear the many whispers of absolute confusion around the church and she felt sorry for Ashley and Sean. This was their day, and it would appear that she and Roman were taking away all their thunder. Then again, she wasn't the one whispering, was she? Was it so unusual for two friends to be seen together in public? She'd already been cornered by Ruby Lucas, Mary Margaret Blanchard, David Nolan and his wife Katherine about Gold's presence. They seemed to be under the impression that he was here to create trouble for the couple getting married. When she had asked what he had done to make them believe that, they had no answer. Rose was an even tempered woman and she did not get angry often, but at that moment, when those people admitted they had no real reason to accuse Roman of anything and were instead falling back on their personal feelings toward a man they didn't know, she had snapped. Had he not been nearby, had he not somehow sensed that something was wrong, she'd have started yelling and the wedding would have been ruined. What a turn of events that was. Rose would have disrupted the wedding had Gold not saved it. They owed him and they didn't know it.

Once that had been straightened out and Roman had wandered off to find drinks, Rose had been peppered with questions. Was she dating Gold? And if she was ...why? She had, of course, told them the truth ...for the most part. Well, David and Katherine had gotten the unabridged truth. Gold was a fried who had agreed to accompany her so she could avoid Gary Avonlea. The couple had nodded their understanding and left her alone. Ruby and Mary Margaret were different. They continued to ask questions ...most of which she didn't have an answer for until she became so frustrated she had told them she and Gold had been having mad, passionate sex between the stacks at the library for weeks and how was it possible they hadn't noticed until now? Both women had stood there slack jawed in stunned awe until Belle smirked and shook her head. Gossips ...both of them. She loved them, gods knew she did, but if it wasn't all over town that she and Mr. Gold were 'together' *and I don't just mean dating, wink, wink* by the time they left the building, it would be a bonafide miracle.

Her friends had left her when they'd seen Roman coming. She had no idea what sort of look they'd given him, but he'd looked confused when he'd returned to her side. She should probably tell him what she'd said ...but then again, who in this little town was going to walk up to Mr. Gold, the reclusive hermit all the children feared, and ask him if he was doing the librarian? Besides, while Ruby sucked at keeping secrets, she was also a loyal and supportive friend and would likely tack on something sweet to the end of the story. Something about True Love and soul mates. Something poetic and beautiful that would make sex in the stacks seem romantic. She was someone Rose could count on. Mary Margaret, if she'd actually heard what Rose had said, was too tied up in David Nolan to care much. Yes, married David Nolan. Rose and Ruby had both tried to talk to her, but she was head over heels in love ...with ...a married man.

Rose shook her head and Roman put a hand in the small of her back. It was a familiar sensation, a feeling that calmed her tumultuous thoughts immediately. But then, it couldn't be familiar, could it? She glanced over at him and he caught her eye, giving her that soft smile he shared with no one else. "Everything okay?"

She returned his smile. "Fine." She changed the subject abruptly. "So, how do I look, I know my mascara has probably streaked black lines down my face. Did I get most of it off?"

Roman stopped and turned her to face him, considering her seriously for several minutes. "You are stunning."

When she smiled and blushed, he pressed on. There would never be another chance like this one. "Do you ..." he stopped, paused, took a breath, and tried again. "Would you ..." Oh for the gods sake, he was a grown man. "I would love to take you out on an official, real date."

He relaxed considerable when her face lit up in a brilliant smile. "Oh! Roman, I would love that."

Gold had not dated in ...uhm ...well, ever, that he remembered ...which was kind of strange now that he thought about it. Surely he'd been out before now. He put the thought aside to focus on the woman in front of him. "Would tomorrow be too soon?"

Rose shook her head. "It would be perfect."

He took her hand in his and leaned over to press his lips to her knuckles. A shock of electricity radiated out from that point of contact and sizzled through them both. He stood, his eyes wide, her face reflecting his own surprise. "Shall I take you home?" She was staring at her hand as if she'd never seen it before. "Rose?"

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Shall I take you home?" he repeated and she nodded.

"Yes, thank you."

He turned and led her out of the room. They did not touch again, both of them equal parts afraid that the shock had been a fluke or that it would happen again. He stopped in front of the library and hopped out to open her door. She climbed out of the car. "So, tomorrow?"

Once again, that smile lit up her face. "Around six?"

He nodded. "I'll be here." Gold returned to the driver side of the car still unwilling to touch her. Something strange was happening and he had no idea what it was. But as with any other question he had no answer to, he would find out. "Goodnight, Rose. It was ..." he paused. He knew he ought to say how nice it had been but for some reason he felt that he simply couldn't lie to this woman. Anyone else? Yes. But not to her ...never to her. " ...incredibly boring, but it would have been unbearable had you not been there with me."

Rose laughed and turned toward the library door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Roman."

"Yes," he said as he got in his car. "You most certainly will."


	48. Play It Again, Sam

Six o'clock was rapidly becoming Gold's favorite time of day. He had gotten up that morning feeling like something was different; strange. When he'd looked in to the mirror to shave he'd almost cut his throat when he realized that he was happy ...giddy even. He honestly hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd genuinely wanted to get up and not simply because plodding through yet another mindless 24 hours seemed the right thing to do. Not so much the shop; that place was a ghost town most days, but because at six o'clock he had a date with Rose French. The thought of having her entirely to himself for hours on end made his stomach do a little flip flop of nervous excitement. And while he knew his behavior was that of a juvenile, he found he didn't actually care. It was nice to feel something other than loneliness and anger. It seemed that he had never known any other emotions. He was always lonely, as if he'd lost someone he should be seeking but couldn't remember who, or why and he was always angry at ...everyone. He had no idea why he should feel that way but it was still there. He had a particular problem with it where the mayor was concerned. To the point that ripping her head off and feeding it to sharks had not seemed nearly as implausible or horrible as it should.

And then suddenly, literally overnight, Rose had managed to worm her way into his heart. Oh, he'd been watching her for years ...yeah, he didn't sound like a stalker at all, but it had never occurred to him that she might actually enjoy his company nor choose to spend her down time with him. He kind of wondered about her sanity, but hey, if it meant getting to know her on a more personal level, he didn't care if she was sane or not. He would take whatever she was willing to offer him.

He got dressed and stood in front of his mirror, staring. What on earth did she see in him? He was short, stuffy, and old, his hair was turning gray, his nose was enormous, he used a cane and walked with a limp due to severely broken foot many years ago. He glanced into the bottom of his wardrobe. He knew he had jeans in there somewhere. Storybrooke had …absolutely no night life whatsoever, but it did boast a bowling alley and a miniature golf course. Of course, he had never gone to either one, not because he couldn't bowl or use basic geometry, but more that he didn't want to go alone and it had seemed silly anyway. Maybe Rose would like to go bowling. It seemed like a safe first date. He pulled out the drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe and was rummaging around for jeans when his hand hit something ice cold. He pulled away in shock. What the hell?

He found several pairs of jeans and threw them on his bed, reaching back in and hissing in pain as he drew out ...he stared, it was a book. What the hell was it made out of? Dry ice? He tossed it on the bed and went back into the bathroom to run hot water on his fingers. He did not recall owning any literally cold, books. Then again, he was not sure he'd ever looked in the bottom of this wardrobe. He had been going through the motions of life, getting up, putting on a suit, going to his shop and wandering about town being menacing to everyone except Rose and Regina's son, Henry. But then, it was hard to be angry at a child. It wasn't Henry's fault the mayor was his mother ...in fact, it was his fault. He was the one who had moved mountains to bring him here. Regina had wanted a son, but not the whole 'husband' thing, and had requested Gold find her a child she could adopt. He had pulled a crapload of strings, and twisted more than a few arms ...some not in an altogether pleasant way, but that was in the past ... almost 10 years ago now.

He drew his hand out of the water and was pleased to see the pink starting to work it's way back into his fingers. He looked in the wardrobe again and found a blue shirt that would compliment Rose's eyes and a nice leather jacket; laid them with his jeans and left for the shop. He didn't stop to wonder about that book again until he was already there. Perhaps he had several like that, or that book was part of a set. If the rest of them were here in the store, that would explain where it had come from. He'd probably brought it home to read and then forgotten he had it. Surely Rose would have told him if he had an overdue library book. He smiled to himself. She'd have harassed him, needled him, teased him and nagged him until he'd brought it back and paid any fines involved. He actually laughed. He really should have thought to keep one of her books before now. Like a few years ago.

"What's funny?" a soft, lilting accent asked from the doorway.

The voice came from behind him and he turned, the smile still locked in place. "I was just thinking that if I'd kept a library book for a few months we might have done this sooner."

"Or ..I'd have broken in to your house in the dead of night to retrieve it," Rose said, smiling.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes. And nothing good could ever come out of you being in my house at night."

Rose blushed and looked away but then straightened, meeting his eyes. "Roman Gold, are you flirting with me?"

Gold found himself just as surprised as she was. "I suppose I am." He nodded to the picnic basket she was carrying. "What's this?"

She carried it over to the counter and started pulling out sandwiches and iced tea. "Lunch. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," he said with a smirk while his eyes wandered over her with appreciation. He almost laughed. It would appear everything was going to be a sexual innuendo of some kind today and although she blushed ...constantly, he could tell she was pleased. It occurred to him that playing with heavy balls all night was probably not the best idea. He had to stop and close his eyes against the onslaught of desire that mental image provided him with.

When he opened them again, Rose was watching him with a smile on her lips. "What?"

"How do you feel about bowling?" he asked, trying to forceably remove the heavy ball thoughts from his mind.

"I am an excellent bowler, actually." Rose grinned and Gold couldn't help but follow.

"As am I. I suppose we'll shock the hell out of some people tonight."

Rose laughed and it was almost as if she had brought the sun into his tiny pawn shop. "The scandal. The gossip. We'll be tomorrow's headline."

He grinned. He'd had no idea how truly amazing she was. "Bookish Librarian and Town Recluse bowl a perfect game, see page 12 for full story."

"Bookish?" Rose saw him start to fumble and let him off the hook. "Well, okay, but I think Town Hermit might be better."

"It makes me sound like a toad," he fired back, completely aware that they were treading in dangerous waters. Flirting like this tended to lead to other, less wholesome but far more entertaining activities.

Rose handed him a sandwich and laughed. "I think that's Kermit."

He had reached out as she brought her hand forward and was now simply holding on. Their eyes locked, the sandwich fell to the counter and was forgotten as their fingers twined together. They both stood frozen on the edge of a cliff. A dangerous, possibly painful road to be sure, but the potential for joy and pleasure was also clear. Neither moved, but they could feel the air around them becoming charged with electricity. Gold knew that she would never come to him. The smiles and flirtation were his only cues that this might be okay. He pulled gently on the hand he had captured and when she was easily drawn forward, into the circle of his arms, he released the fear that had been building in his chest. He could see the need in her clear blue eyes, the want, the longing and knew that she could see the same in his. He drew her up against him, cupping her face in his hands. "Rose."

She shushed him and he gave up, pressing his lips to hers, tasting her, touching her, trying desperately to prevent himself from losing control altogether. She released his hand and he was about to step back when her fingers came up, threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, showing him without words that he was welcome, that this was welcome, that she wanted him as much as she hoped he wanted her. He could not speak unless he broke the kiss. That was not something he was presently willing to do and so he deepened it instead, stroked her lips with his tongue until she gasped and allowed him entrance. Showed her without a need for useless speech that whatever she was feeling, he felt it as well. He pulled her flush up against his body, and they simply melded together as if they were meant to be.

For several long moments they simply stood there, clinging to one another. It was a wonderful feeling and yet, there was also an underlying sensation that he had been without this ...without her for a very long time and their reunion was far overdue. But that made no sense. They had yet to even go out together. He could not explain why this felt so absolutely right, so amazingly perfect. He wondered if she felt the same thing.

They broke apart, but moved only slightly, still staring at each other. Partly in awe over the feelings flooding through them, but mostly it was that they simply did not want to be separated again. Gold stopped. Again? Yes. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear a voice. He knew it was yelling and yet it was so far away he still could not hear it clearly. It was telling him to listen to his feelings, to pay attention and to understand, but for the moment, he could not. He knew ...they both knew that something strange was happening, but neither could say what it was. They would have to press forward, keep going, and eventually, he hoped, the meaning would become clear. He had waited this long to hold her; he had no intention of letting her go now. Whatever was upon them ...they would stand and face it together. As they had always done.

Always? Gold struggled to bring the meaning into focus but it was as if a fog had settled over his memories. And where had that thought come from anyway? He had no memories of this woman save the past several years of him trying to find a way to talk to her, and those were perfectly clear. It was as if two sides of him were at war, each trying to usurp the other and prove its validity. It was maddening, frustrating. He looked at Rose and saw the same confusion he was feeling reflected in her eyes.

"Are you alright? Belle?"

She froze. "What?"

"Are you okay?" He was beginning to second guess his actions. Perhaps he had been too forward.

"You called me Belle," she said, her voice filled with question.

"Did I?" He had no memory of it. Who on earth was Belle?

Rose shook her head as if attempting to clear out cobwebs. "I ...I think you did. I'm ...I'm not sure now. What is going on?"

Gold fell back on his original assumption. "I'm going too fast."

"What?" Rose looked stunned. "No." She shook her head. "No, really, if you took any longer you'd be molasses."

Roman laughed. "Am I really that bad?"

"I have been trying to get your attention for years," she said, grinning.

"Funny. I've been going to the library day after day for years to see if you would pay me any attention. I had no idea I could read so fast." He smirked and they fell back into their easy banter.

"On the bright side," Rose said, laughing at their astounding ability to miss one another for so long. "Speed reading is a skill."

"That's true," he responded, returning to the picnic basket and pulling out the rest of their lunch. "I would imagine I can read just about anything in less than 24 hours."

Rose took a drink of tea. "Never know when that might come in handy." Gold was about to take a bite of his sandwich when he came to a grinding halt. She looked at him with concern. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "I have the strangest feeling that speed reading is going to be invaluable."


	49. Deja Vu

After their interesting and pleasurable lunch experience, Rose had returned to the library. While the strange holes in her memories were troublesome she felt strongly that it would somehow work itself out and frankly, now that she'd finally managed to get Roman to ask her on a date, she was not inclined to worry about it. Go out, have fun, do more of what they did over lunch and leave it for another day. She smiled as she put books back in the stacks. She had never actually realized how private it was behind several shelves of reading material until now. Her mind wandered to things that were not altogether innocent as she tried to keep busy. This was going to be the longest afternoon of her life.

Fortunately, Ruby turned up with Mary Margaret dragging behind her sometime around four and it took her mind off of her impending date. "What's wrong?" Rose looked at the shorter of the two but when she realized Mary Margaret was not going to say anything, she looked expectantly at Ruby.

Her friend shrugged. "I'll give you three guesses."

Rose sighed. "David?" At the sound of his name Mary dissolved into tears. "What happened?"

"From what I've been able to get out of her, there was a dove and rain and a cabin and kissing involved." Ruby put an arm around Mary Margaret's shoulders as she continued to weep.

Rose was confused. "Is that bad?" When she was given a look from hell she clarified. "Well, of course you feel bad if something happened as he is married, but what I mean is that knowing he's not indifferent to you ...that's not, is it?"

Mary Margaret shrugged and straightened, wiping the tears from her face. "I suppose that's one way to look at it."

Ruby squeezed her shoulders. "See? I told you Rose would have something positive to say."

"That's me," Rose said. "Positive ...and now I'm positive you both need to leave. I have a date and I'm closing early to get ready." When both Ruby and Mary Margaret looked at her with expressions registering shock and curiosity, Rose laughed. "What? I'm not a nun."

"I can think of only one man you've ever shown actual interest in," Mary Margaret said.

Rose laughed. "I've dated before."

Both women shook their head. "No. You've hung out with guys at Granny's, or here at the library, but never what you deemed 'a date.' Molasses Gold? Really? Isn't he ..."

She held up a hand. "Let it go. I do not have to discuss my dating choices with either one of you."

Mary Margaret opened her mouth to say something but Ruby stopped it. "You are absolutely right. Want us to help you get ready?"

Rose considered it for a moment, but then shook her head. "No, but thanks. Next time." She looked at Mary Margaret. "If you need to talk, come by tomorrow? Please?"

The other woman nodded in silence and they left. Rose locked the door and went to her apartment which was just upstairs. It was nearly five and she had butterflies in her stomach. It was strange that she should be so nervous. She had known Roman Gold for years, had been watching him for years. They had never actually been friends, but they had talked often enough that she considered him a close acquaintance. Everything was different now. Where once she had only looked forward to his daily visits and their brief conversations, now she wanted far more than that. Given what had happened that afternoon, he apparently felt the same. How on earth they had managed to miss this mutual attraction for so long was a mystery. She laid blame on her own shoulders. She should have known that a man who was as private as he was would not come to the library day after day, check out one book and leave only to return the next day. She was obviously blind where he was concerned. That was, however, old news. Her eyes were open now, and they were focused on Roman Gold.

She spent the better part of 30 minutes trying to find an outfit that was both date worthy and bowling suitable. It was more challenging than one might expect. She finally settled on jeans and a soft, fluffy blue sweater. She'd have preferred to wear a dress, but ...well ...bowling. She was jut hoping Roman would dress casually as well. A glance at at the clock told her it was nearly six and she knew her date would be right on time. She grabbed her purse and went downstairs to meet him.

When she opened the door and found him standing there she was struck dumb. First a tuxedo and now ...jeans and a blue shirt with a jacket. This had to stop. She couldn't just be speechless every time she saw him, he'd start thinking she had some sort of mental deficiency. He said what she was thinking. "Wow. You look amazing."

She blushed, but did not take her eyes from his. "You too. I don't believe I've ever seen you in jeans before."

He laughed. "I must admit, it is a little unnerving. I have been wearing a suit everywhere for so long I think I forgot what casual was."

"Hard to bowl in a suit," she said.

He smirked. "You might be surprised. I can do just about anything in a suit."

Rose ignored the innuendo. "I'm sure you can, but it's nice to be casual."

"That it is." He held out his hand and she took it. "I thought we could walk. Unless you want to drive?"

The night was settling in around them. Crisp, but not too cold. The sky was clear and stars glinted out from the inky blackness of a new moon. "It would be wrong to drive when it's so nice out." He just smiled and they strolled together down the sidewalk. They walked in a companionable silence, trying to ignore the gawking residents of Storybrooke. You'd think they had never seen people on a date before. Or holding hands. Granted, Roman Gold was well known for being both generally disagreeable on most levels and a recluse who never left his home. That he was out ...in public ...with a woman ...and looked ...normal, was completely throwing off the entire population. Apparently hell had frozen over. As they neared the bowling alley Rose started laughing. She simply couldn't help it. Every person they had passed had glanced in their direction and then stopped to gawk. She felt like she should be selling pictures.

Roman turned sparkling brown eyes on her. "What?"

"You'd think we were famous the way everyone is staring."

He smiled. "Well, if we weren't before, I would bet we are now. By tomorrow ...oh, yeah, it'll be everywhere. God knows, if even Mr. Gold can get a date, there is hope for everyone."

Rose smacked his arm. "You are not that bad."

He leaned forward until he was a hairs breath away from kissing her. "Oh, you have no idea how bad I can be."

This time she did look away when the red flooded her face. "You enjoy teasing me."

He reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm, pulling her head back so she was looking at him. "Okay. Yes, I do. I apologize." He didn't look at all sorry. "I also like being close to you. Is that alright?"

Rose closed the distance and kissed him briefly. "It's fine. I like being close to you too."

"Well, if they weren't gossiping before, they definitely are now." He stepped away from her and opened the door. "Shall we?"

She went in and he followed close behind her. They were laughing when they got to the desk for shoes and lane assignment. It would appear that the entire bowling alley had come to a halt. Rose glanced around and shook her head. "Oh for god's sake, really?" If she didn't know better she'd think the balls had stopped rolling so they too could see the miracle ...or was that horror? Roman Gold and Rose French were on a date. Stop the presses! Start saving bottles of water! The apocalypse was upon them!

They received shoes and went to their lane with fairly little fanfare, with was surprisingly nice. By the time they got there, the room had started moving again. Rose was eternally grateful. All this attention was unnecessary, and beginning to get on her nerves. Roman gave her a regretful look. "I'm sorry, Rose. I should have known this was a bad idea."

She shook her head. "No. That's just bullshit. These people need to get over it. You are a human being not the spawn of satan. I know you're a strict landlord, but never once have I heard that you are unfair. It just pisses me off."

Roman gathered her into his arms. "Ahh ...now you know my secret." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "I am a demon. They all know it. I will rip out their hearts and crush them to ..." his voice faded off.

Rose looked up into his face. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "I've no idea. Deja-vu I guess. Wow. Yeah, that was just odd."

She too had experienced several moments of deja vu since she had gone to the wedding with Roman. He was right; it was strange. It wasn't so much that she had done these things before, but that she had a memory of them ...somewhere in her mind, but it was so hazy she couldn't see it clearly. She didn't want to say anything, but it really was disturbing. The feeling was so strong it was impossible to dismiss. Every time she thought about it shivers went down her spine.

Roman released her and laughed. "Well, since we know I haven't been running about ripping out hearts, I suppose we can let it go."

It took her a second to register his words, and then she laughed as well and let out a relieved breath. "Right. You may not run around stealing hearts ...it gives people the wrong impression."

He turned away to go find a ball and she heard him speak over his shoulder. "Well, at least let me have one."

#

As it turned out, even with a limp Roman had been right. He was an excellent bowler and it wasn't long before they were getting attention not because he was there, but because he was really good. It was likely he'd have bowled a perfect game had Gary Avonlea not come in and seen them.

He scowled and stalked over to their lane, leaving his friends behind. "So you won't go out with me, but this crusty old guy is okay?"

Rose closed her eyes briefly, opened them and gave him the filthiest look she could muster. "Don't start. In fact, just go away. I was having a good time."

There was a thud behind her. She turned to find that Roman was facing them, his ball had dropped to the wood floor and now lay forgotten at his feet. "Get away from her."

She had never heard his voice quite that low or quite that soft before. It made the hairs on her arms stand up and not in a good way. "He was just leaving, Roman."

Gary squared his shoulders. "Was I? I don't recall saying that."

Roman walked casually to her side. Gary must have outweighed him by over a hundred pounds, and stood at least a foot taller and yet, looking at him in this moment, Rose would have put her last cent on Roman if it came to a fight between the two men. The murderous look on his face was not something one just happened upon, it was from the very depths of his soul and stated clearly that he was not above homicide if Gary didn't get the hell away from them. Well, not so much 'them' as just her. Unfortunately, Gary was not the smartest man on the planet. Which was, incidentally, why Rose had not wanted to date him in the first place. She preferred that men be able to realize when their lives were in danger. She put herself physically in between them. "Okay, come on. Gary, go do whatever it was you came here for and leave us in peace, please."

He did not take well to being dismissed. "If I don't?"

"I will kill you, boy." Rose saw his eyes shift from hers to just behind her and she saw when his face drained of color. He had apparently read Gold's face at last. It was about time because she could feel Roman smoldering behind her and had no idea what would happen should those embers burst to flame. Gary seemed to take the hint, snorted, and started to turn away. He had taken two steps when he turned back suddenly, pushed Rose aside, and drilled Roman in the face. The force of the punch rocked Gary back on his heels, but Roman did not move an inch, he didn't sway, he didn't blink, he didn't seem to notice that he'd been hit. If Gary had been pale before, he was now completely white. "That was, quite literally, the dumbest thing you have ever done." Once again, Roman's voice was soft, low ...deadly.

He didn't immediately try to rip Gary's throat out, but walked over to Rose and crouched down so he could look in her face. She had not been pushed hard, but it was enough to move her, which in turn caused the seats to hit the back of her knees. She folded and sat down ...hard. Roman lifted her chin and checked her thoroughly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Of course. He didn't push hard."

Roman was literally shaking with anger. He was enraged. "No Rose ...he should know better than to touch you at all. I promise you, he will know that lesson before he leaves this building."

"Please don't."

He shushed her. "Is the baby okay? Be honest, any pain at all?"

She shook her head. "No. No pain. I'm fine, honestly." She was floored by his concern. Not that he wouldn't be fretful about his date being pushed around, but this was ...it was so much more. The look in his eyes when he inquired about the baby was genuine terror which, while flattering, seemed out of place. They hadn't really known one another long enough for him to feel this deeply about her or her baby.

Roman nodded and stood. "I'll be right back. Just sit here and take it easy for a bit." He turned away before she had a chance to say anything. Rose knew he would have gone after Gary had a woman not been standing there blocking his path. His eyes flashed with irritation. "May I help you?"

"We got a call at the station," she said, pulling out a badge and holding it up. "Gary Avonlea is outside with the sheriff. If your date would like to press charges, we will take him to jail, but I don't want you to do something you're going to regret."

Roman was livid. "And who the hell are you?"

She met his eyes, unafraid. "I'm the new deputy. Swan. Emma Swan."


	50. Enter the Savior

Rumplestiltskin said the first thing that came to mind. "That boy just pushed my wife and endangered my child. Move out of my way before I move you." He was so angry, in fact, that it took several moments to register what he had said.

Deputy Swan put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "What's your name?"

"Rum ...Roman ...Gold." He stumbled over the name. A false name. An identity forced upon him by the queen. He glanced behind him at Rose, no, not Rose ...Belle, his Belle. She had turned away to watch other people bowl. She hadn't heard him, then. That was a blessing. He brought a hand to his forehead as memories flooded in to his mind. Hundreds of years flashed through him at once and the pressure was almost unbearable.

Emma Swan looked at him with something like suspicion mixed with worry. "Okay ...Mr. Gold. Hey, are you alright?" She increased the pressure on his shoulder as if she thought he was about to pass out. When he didn't readily respond and his attention lingered on Belle, the deputy cleared her throat. "Mr. Gold?"

"What?" He snapped at her and she took a step back. He had no memory of this woman, but the name ...Emma ...it had been part of the curse. A loophole he had included that would allow for him to regain his memories. He had believed there was time to alter the curse to include Belle in the loophole. He had not counted on Regina's need for vengeance to be so motivating that she figured the curse out despite his refusal to answer certain questions. He looked at Emma Swan. The child of Snow White and Prince Charming. The person destined to break the curse.

She looked like she was trying not to yell at him. "Did your wife want to press charges? What Mr. Avonlea did was assault and, technically, attempted murder since she is pregnant. I can put him away for a very long time."

He shook his head. "I think just getting him away from her is best right now. I'll discuss charges with her later. Is that satisfactory?"

Emma nodded. "Yep. We'll take him to the station. Have a nice evening ...what's left of it. I'm sorry for what happened. Your wife is okay, right? Should I call an ambulance?"

Belle had lost interest in the other bowlers and got up to join Rumplestiltskin and Emma. He realized that he had to get rid of the deputy before she called Belle his wife in front of her. Explaining that would be a disaster, he was sure. "She's okay." He glanced at Belle for confirmation and she nodded. "Thank you for your help."

"Just doing my job." Emma looked at Belle. "Mrs. Gold, you let me know if you want to do anything about Avonlea."

Belle simply nodded and while Gold's face drained of color, Emma Swan took her leave. "Wow. When did we get married?" Her voice was filled with mirth.

He almost said they had been married for nearly three decades but managed to stop himself. "It's an understandable mistake."

"I suppose so," she agreed. "Are you ready to go? Gary kind of killed the mood."

Rumplestiltskin finally got himself under control, pushed the memories aside, and focused on his date. "I'm sorry about that, Rose."

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault."

He took her hand and pulled her toward the exit. It was almost a new sensation. Her hand in his. Knowing that this was his Belle, his wife, his True Love made his heart ache. He was grateful that despite the fact that they didn't know about their previous relationship they had still managed to find one another, but he couldn't help feeling angry at being deprived of her for so long. He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her for several hours. He wanted to make love to her until they were both so spent they collapsed into bed and didn't move for days. He couldn't believe how many things he'd taken for granted. Something as simple as feeling her hands on him when they took a bath to the feel of her body pressed against his. He had not realized how much he would miss being with her and now ...he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't look forward to getting home and showing her just how much he needed her. It was, very possibly, the most horrible sensation he'd ever experienced. Knowing that this woman belonged to him, that the baby she carried was his daughter, and that she had no memory of either of those things. He had to get her to remember and he had no idea how he was going to do that.

When they reached the library, Belle looked at him quizzically. "Roman? You okay?"

He wanted to say 'no ...on so many levels, no' but he had no way to explain why and he certainly didn't want her to think she was the cause. He therefore smiled. "Fine. I just wish the evening had ended on a better note."

She stepped closer. "It's not over yet."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

Belle pulled on his hand. "Come inside?"

Gold nodded and followed her. Just inside the door she spun around suddenly and kissed him, melting into his arms as they came around her. Gods, he would never again take this taste for granted. She tasted like coffee and vanilla, sugar with a hint of nutmeg, as if she had been eating cookies all day. Her smell was lavender and roses. He had no idea how those two scents managed to coexist, but on Belle, they did. Her hair was oranges, which was a result of earthly shampoos, but under the citrus was just her scent, and the longing that stabbed through his soul was so powerful it nearly knocked him over. Flashes of their life together ran through his mind in technicolor. From the day she had arrived at the dark castle and her fear of him to the day she had realized who he was. Her kind words when he'd blamed himself for Clemson's death, her soft skin under his fingertips. He wanted to tell her. Needed her to know him so desperately that it was a physical pressure in his chest and yet, until he got home and got to his books, he couldn't even begin to start helping her remember him; remember them.

They broke apart slowly, their lips lingering only centimeters from one another, either unable or unwilling to move any further away than that. "Wow."

She smiled and he crushed her to his chest. He didn't know what to say. Something poetic? Something deep and meaningful? Something that would let her know how much it meant that they were together. He wanted to convey all of those things, but what came out was entirely different. "Yeah."

Belle ...Rose ...he knew he should stick with Rose, even when he thought of her because if he kept hearing Belle in his mind, he was eventually going to say it when they were speaking, let her eyes drift over his face, to his lips and back to his eyes. "What now?"

Gold wasn't an idiot. He knew exactly what she was offering him and God help him, he wanted to take her hand, pull her into her apartment, and ravish her with abandon until she screamed his name, but he couldn't ...more to the point, he shouldn't. "Now ..I am going to go home before this gets out of hand."

Her eyes filled with question. "What's wrong with getting out of hand?"

"Nothing," he said, brushing her lips with his. "Nothing at all."

She closed her eyes, letting him kiss her, savoring the sensation. "I hear a but coming."

He pulled back slightly to look down in to her face. "When we make love, Rose, I want it to be perfect in every way." His eyes skimmed over her face, down to her lips, and further to the soft swell of her breasts. He saw her shiver. Given that she did not have any memory of being his wife, he should tell her that it was too soon, he should say that they needed to know one another better, but he wasn't stupid, he knew that his patience would be short-lived at best. Had the savior not arrived, had he not met Emma Swan by coincidence and therefore did not know that this woman belonged to him in every possible way, that they were bonded, soul to soul, he still would not have slept with her tonight, but he also knew that if she continued to show interest in ...that ...he wouldn't have the strength to say no more than once. She did not look as if she had any intention of backing down. Her eyes were blue fire, spitting and sparking with desire. It was wonderful to see on her face, but the part of him that was Rumplestiltskin, her husband, wanted her heart; wanted her soul; wanted there to be no questions between them once the passion had been sated.

Her voice was soft, but heavy with pent up need. "I suppose I can live with that." She paused and then, "For now."

He lowered his head and kissed her. It was enough. Had to be enough. At least for the moment. He pulled her against his body and simply held her, letting all the emotion flood his senses. There was nothing he would have liked more than to stay where he was but if he didn't leave soon, he knew he would never get out the door. "I really should go," he said after several more minutes of kissing and touching had left them breathless.

She made a sound of annoyance in the back of her throat. "Do you have to?"

It made him smile. "Unfortunately, but I will see you tomorrow. Right?"

"Yes." She returned his smile. "What would you like to do?"

His eyes must have betrayed his thoughts because she laughed. "I thought we were waiting for that."

"Right. How about if I cook you dinner? No gawking townsfolk, just you and me, my place?"

Rose sighed and pillowed her head on his chest. "Sounds like heaven."

He pulled away with a great deal of reluctance and opened the door. "Tomorrow then. Shall I come get you?"

She shook her head. "I can drive." She blushed. "I know where you live."

Gold laughed. "Well, that saves time, doesn't it?"

"I guess it does. What time?" Rose was attempting to be serious, but failing at an epic rate. Her skin was flushed, her eyes were shining with laughter, and her smile was blinding.

"Six? Maybe we can watch a movie after."

"I'll be there," she said.

He watched her as she closed the door and listened until he heard her footsteps retreating. What in the hell was wrong with him? Dinner? At his house? Yes, because that wasn't a preamble to having her naked in his bed at all. He sighed as he walked toward his car. He now had less than a day to figure out how to retrieve her memories because he knew, without a doubt, that tomorrow he would not have the desire or ability to turn away from her. Theirs had always been an absolute and consuming attraction. It would appear that worlds away and a lack of memory had not changed that in the least.

When he arrived at his home he almost couldn't bare to go inside. He knew how dark and desolate it was in there and while it had never bothered him before, he wanted Belle with him so desperately that he couldn't seem to stomach entering a house that should belong to them both and yet, did not. He might have sat there in his car all night had he not seen a shadow moving in his bedroom.

Gold entered quietly, grabbing the gun he kept near the door and moved in silence up the stairs. He paused outside the bedroom and then threw open the door, letting it slam against the wall; hoping that would startle whomever had been dumb enough to break into his house. Germaine looked up from the bed where he was seated with the book Gold had found in his wardrobe earlier in his lap. "Well, that's tacky. I come to help and you point a gun at me."

"What are you doing here?" He didn't want to lower the gun, but he did.

"Time has started again, Rumplestiltskin. Your wife is now in danger ...so is your daughter. We must begin learning the Volumes de Sanguine or you are going to lose both of them."

Gold's blood turned to ice. He had forgotten about the books entirely. Between getting married and finding out he was to be a father, he had somehow let the impending death of both his bride and their unborn child slip from his mind. And then the curse had happened and he had forgotten everything. It came back to him now with a vengeance. "She does not remember."

Germaine looked at him with sympathy. "I understand and while I empathize, you must get her to agree to this. Obviously, returning her memory would serve you best."

"And just how do I do that?"

Germaine shook his head. "I am only an alchemist, you are the sorcerer. I am afraid this one is up to you."

Rumplestiltskin sat down, resting his throbbing head in his hands. Belle would understand why this was necessary and they would being studying immediately. Rose ...on the other hand, was going to think he was a psychopath. He had wondered, many, many years ago, what the price would be for learning the books of blood and now he had his answer. Delve in to the darkest curse in the history of the realms and figure out how to return Belle's memories ...or lose her forever. It would be an easy decision, if he knew he would come out of the dark magic intact, but he was not sure that was possible. In order to find what he needed, to create a bridge between the curse and Belle, he would have to call upon that part of himself that wallowed in the depths of evil and once it had been released, he did not know if he could bottle it up again


	51. Into the Heart of Evil

Rumplestiltskin stoked the fire until the blaze roared in the grate. It was hot; too hot for the weather outside, but it was necessary. He'd never been the kind of sorcerer who lit candles and chanted, he was more the fire and brimstone type. He knew he had the rudimentary knowledge to send his consciousness into a trance that would allow him access to the dark curse that plagued this town, however, in order to face that curse, to allow it to touch his soul, without the power of the Dark One to shelter him ...it was dangerous at best. At worse, the bond he had created between himself and Belle; the bond that clearly tethered their lives together, whether they knew one another or not, would kill her if he died. He had never regretted that night ...until today. He knew she would prefer they die together given the choice, but he couldn't bear the thought. If he was to die, he would only be satisfied if he knew she still lived. That was unlikely because of him. It was the idea that she would no longer be alive somewhere in the realms that forced his hand. He knew what he had to do. He didn't want it anymore, but to protect his Belle, he would do it anyway. It was strange, the reluctance he felt. He'd always assumed he would jump if given the chance, but he now realized he liked his life the way it was.

He sat down, staring into the fire. He knew of only one way to ensure he, Belle and their daughter came out of this alive and it was not the best choice in his world. He'd become accustomed to living without power and dark magic flooding his body. He was used to the sensation of being 'normal.' And where once he might have given almost anything to have his power returned to him, he found himself surprisingly unwilling. Damn it all, he'd been perfectly happy until Emma Swan had decided to join them.

Germaine came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever it is you're going to do, Rumplestiltskin. Do it soon."

He nodded, waved the alchemist away, and closed his eyes, allowing the heat from the fire to swarm around him. He could vaguely hear the crackling as sweat beaded on his forehead. The heat made his head swim and he went from a state of almost consciousness to a meditative state very much like astral projection in the space of a heartbeat. He knew he was in danger like this. Anything powerful enough could take over his body, but there was one entity, or ...power rather, that should be drawn to the shell he'd left sitting there. Something that had called him home for centuries. He couldn't wait forever, his physical body would overheat and Germaine knew to pull him out of the room if it looked like he was in real danger of actual death. Through a haze of heat he could see that he'd stopped sweating and his face had drained of color. He was on the verge of heat stroke and Germaine hovered nearby with wet towels. He knew the man was just on the edge of covering him in cold water and implored him to wait …just a few moments more.

It was a sensation both familiar and nauseating. The power had been out in empty space, searching for it's home, for a very long time. He could feel it pressing closer, seeking the source of the siren call that had gone out when he'd left his body. It came closer, assessing the situation, seeing that he was incapable of preventing it from taking control of him. Just as Germaine moved to pull him out of the room, the power struck. It flooded into him. His body bucked, throwing him backwards. He landed hard on the floor. He saw his head crack against the tile and winced. That was going to hurt in the morning. The power ripped through him, and as he tried to reclaim his body, it attempted to push him away. Rumplestiltskin pulled all the power inside himself and tamped it down as he had done for so many years before now and forced his consciousness back into his body. It hurt. It hurt more that he could begin to express and as the guttural scream left his lips, Germaine sprang in to action, pulling him from the room, into his bedroom and laying him down. He had blood streaming out of his ears, from the back of his head and seeping from his eyes. It was not a pretty sight ...but then ...becoming the Dark One never had been.

He wondered if the magic of the curse that made items conform to this realm would prevent him from changing back in to the creature he'd been before. He felt water at his lips and opened his mouth, drinking greedily. Several minutes later he tried to sit up. His head swam, his stomach roiled and he vomited until it felt like his head was going to burst. Germaine put a wet towel in his hand and he gently wiped away bile and blood, letting his body retch as it tried to adjust to all the dark magic that had just taken up residence inside him. For some reason he had believed this time would be easier. He'd been through it before. But honestly, it seemed somehow worse. While his motives were still basically the same; protect someone he loved, it would seem that knowing was, in this case, worse than being innocent. The first time he'd taken on all this power, he'd lay on the ground, writhing in pain for ...he knew not how long, but by the time he'd come back to himself the sun had risen and the soldiers had been at his home. He remembered vividly being able to see what was happening, as if a window had opened in his mind. This time was no different, except that the darkness remembered Belle very clearly. The darkness inside his soul looked on her and saw a lover, a wife, a vessel ...a woman who held it's child. He shook himself. No. That was his baby, his daughter. The Dark One had no hold over her.

When he was finally able to raise his head and open his eyes, Germaine was shaking his head. He tried to say 'what' and found he couldn't speak at all. The other man seemed to understand. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen." Rumplestiltskin simply nodded. It wasn't bravery that made him seduce dark magic into his body ...it was fear. Fear of losing Belle. Fear of losing his daughter. Why was it that he was always afraid of something? He had spent the last 28 years fearing nothing and no one ...well, that wasn't strictly true was it? He had been afraid of the most important thing and waited too long to ask Belle out on a date. He had been so sure that her interest in him was casual that he'd allowed almost three decades to get past him.

"What do I look like?" He supposed it was an important question. It was the first one that managed to slip out.

Germaine looked confused. "I don't understand." The alchemist held out a hand and while the Dark One truly wanted to slap it away, he pushed those feelings down and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

Rumplestiltskin stumbled into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. He felt first shock, then relief flood through him. The magic of the curse was strong. It had not allowed for his appearance to be changed. Which was a good thing given that Belle might have had a nervous break down if she saw the actual visage of the Dark One when she came in to his house in ...crap ...he had no idea what time it was. He looked at Germaine. "How long ..."

The man was hovering just outside the bathroom door. "Nearly five. You've been lying there thrashing about for several hours."

"Damn. Damn. Belle ...Rose will be here at six. I have to go back."

Germaine stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Back? Into the magic? Are you insane? You nearly died today, Rumplestiltskin. Perhaps you can call your wife and put this off."

The newly emerged Dark One shook his head. "I have to get her memories. There's more to it than simply learning the books. Way more. So very much more." The desire for her now was almost overwhelming. If he could make it through dinner without ravishing her it would be a miracle. He looked at the man who was still standing in his bedroom. "I really appreciate your help Germaine, but she'll be here soon and I promised her dinner."

"You want me to go fetch you a dinner?" The alchemist looked insulted.

Gold nodded. "For two ...and hurry." He shoved bills in his hand and with a sigh, Germaine left the house. Rumplestiltskin sat down on his bed and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to calm the sensations in his body. This part he remembered clearly. Overwhelming power along with a feeling of invincibility and the knowledge that he was, in fact, immortal.

He could feel the curse all around him and reached for it with his mind, calling to it gently with his own darkness, pulling it closer until he could grasp it, examine it, find the loophole he had created that allowed for him to remember and insert Belle's name as he had always intended. The curse fought against him as he tried to press his wife's name into it. Tried to get away from him, but he ...it's creator, was someone it could not escape. It shifted, tried to slide away, turned to smoke, slithered through his fingers ...he cursed. It was like trying to hold water in his hands. It seemed to take forever.

He centered his mind on Belle, saw her clearly in his mind. She was sitting on her bed obviously in the middle of dressing for their date. He saw her soft chestnut hair sliding through his fingers, her body pressed to his, feeling her around him and knowing they belonged together. Those stunning, translucent blue eyes that had captured his heart even when she'd been a child. He let the sensations fill him, reached out with the magic and touched her, knew that she gasped as invisible fingers slid along her arms, through her hair, over her breasts. Saw her mouth drop open as he touched parts of her that should not be accessible to hands at all. He could feel her body pulsing around him, saw her touching herself in his mind and groaned, letting those hands stoke the flames inside of him until they raged and burned. His own hands slipped inside his pants and stroked, touched, pulled. He could see Belle in his mind's eye doing the same. Some unseen force pushing her to press into her center, slip a finger inside herself and cry out as an intense orgasm hovered just out of their reach. He heard her whisper his name and his body screamed for release.

In that moment, when their combined pleasure was at its peak and he could clearly see himself selfishly shoving his way into her body, could feel her hands grasping his ass and pulling him ever closer, as the world shattered around them, he pushed her name into the curse and this time, it gave, allowed itself to be embedded with her memory. He groaned as he exploded, stroking himself harder, faster, his breathing labored as he saw Belle cry out. She shuddered and he gasped, thrusting up as if she were there, straddling him. He thrust into her body over and over until he was spent, until the sensations ebbed enough that he could pull his hand away from himself. He was breathing as hard as if she'd actually been there and felt her combination of relief that the feelings were momentarily sated and agitation that she still wanted him ...desperately. He could completely identify. He wondered for a blissful moment whether they would ever make it to the table at all.

Gold sat up when he heard Germaine's voice in the front room and cursed when he realized what a mess he was. It had not been his intention to ...well, anyway, it was done and Belle would remember as soon as she met Emma Swan, but for the moment, they were still nearly strangers who wanted to make love with a desperation that was overwhelming. He knew he didn't have the patience to wait for her memories ...knowing that she would remember would have to be enough.

He went in to the bathroom to clean up and when he came out he could smell food in the dining room. He padded in bare feet, jeans and a shirt that was hanging open, into the next room and found a lovely scene. Candles flickered on the table, food was laid out in dishes he hadn't realized he possessed. It was set for two and Germaine was gone. He would have to remember to thank him. There was a tentative knock on the door and his mind went blank.

Belle had arrived, and without thinking he went and opened the door for her. There was a audible gasp as her eyes raked over his body. He felt himself harden instantly under her intense gaze. Gold swallowed. "Come in."

She stepped inside and closed the door. The look in her eyes said everything. They were never going to make it to the dining room. They might not make it out of this room.


	52. Giving In

Rose stood outside Roman's house and stared at the door. Every nerve ending in her body was screaming with desire, with want, with need. She had no idea where it had come from, but it was all consuming and desperate. For a moment she considered going home and then realized she couldn't. Literally could not turn and walk away. One second she had been merrily picking out clothes and the next she'd been on fire. It was the first and only time this had ever happened to her. She climbed the steps slowly, attempting to appear as though this was just a regular day. That nothing strange or out of the ordinary had taken place. Everything was as it had been the night before. She would have to hope she didn't show externally how much she wanted to break the door down, grab the man inside and drag him, naked, to the floor.

As she approached the door she had a vision of Roman ...but not Roman, someone who looked very much like him. Someone with grayish green skin; someone foreign and yet not ...he was so familiar. He grabbed her waist, pulled her against him and she could almost feel him filling her, an overwhelming need seemed to encapsulate them both. He hadn't even removed all his clothes; just enough to press himself inside her. She could feel the sensation of leather rubbing across her skin as he gasped and thrust frantically, clutching her against his body. Rose shook herself, trying to push the vision away. It was definitely not helping her current situation. Rum was going to see her flushed face, hear her heavy breathing and think her ill. Rum? God, she was so consumed with her own desire she couldn't even remember his name.

In the end, she knocked because simply standing there was getting her nowhere fast and she'd already concluded that she wasn't leaving. When the door opened, Rose gasped. She hadn't actually intended it to be so loud, but damn it all, the man was trying to kill her. He had on jeans, a shirt he had not yet buttoned and no shoes. He looked very much like she felt. Desperate. They said nothing as she walked inside and closed the door behind her with a snap.

He had backed her against the closed door half a second later and crushed his lips down on hers. She responded with the same vicious desperation she could feel coming from him. She opened her mouth to his insistent probing and gasped as he dipped inside. He entangled his tongue with hers and she simply held on to him, unable to do anything other than kiss him. He tasted like smoke and ash, like soot and fire; his body gave off an energy that seemed to stroke down her body, slide under her clothes and caress places he should not be capable of reaching. She groaned, threading her fingers through his hair and even that simple contact was torture to her senses. She pressed closer to him, melding their bodies together, desperately wanting to feel his skin touching hers. She knew he would be hot to the touch, as if he were burning up, but then ...he was, wasn't he? She managed to get one hand out of his soft hair, pushed at the shirt still clinging to his shoulders and he shrugged it off.

Gold nibbled his way across her collarbone, unable to stop himself from pulling her shirt off over her head when it created a barrier to his exploration. His hands slid up her sides to her shoulders and he felt her shiver from the contact. One hand dropped to caress her breast and again, when a barrier was encountered, it was removed. When he took a nipple between forefinger and thumb, caressed it gently, then a little harder, and finally pinching the nub; rolling it between his fingers, she cried out. Not in pain; there was no pain in this moment, every feeling, every touch, every taste was pure, unadulterated pleasure. He felt the button on his jeans give way and glanced down as her fingers unbuttoned the fly. He had to stop her. He couldn't let her touch him or he was going to explode. The problem was, he found himself fascinated as he watched her hands frantically work their way beyond the barrier that separated them.

It was a miracle he didn't lose it completely when she finally freed him from his jeans. He could see himself straining against his underwear; wanting ...needing her to touch him and knowing this would be over if she did. When her fingers stroked across his stomach and pulled at the waistband of the only layer he had left, he was finally able to reach between them and grasp her hand, pulling it up to his mouth so he could take her fingers, one by one, into his mouth. He guided her wet fingers to her breast and stroked her nipple. Once again, she gasped, reaching up with her unoccupied hand to pull his head back toward her and kiss him with a recklessness neither one could prevent.

Their mouths fused together as if they were trying to take sustenance from each other and he felt her hand push its way past his clothing to wrap around him. Oh god ...he had missed this. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the feel of her hands on his body. It was like a drug he had been without for so long he had forgotten the rush it gave him. Any semblance of patience vanished. He wanted to be buried inside her. Had to be or he was going to be finished before he'd started. He heard a sound of impatience that was almost a whimper and realized it was coming from him. He gave up, opened her jeans and pushed them down, taking her underclothes with them. Rose could only moan in appreciation, kick her clothes to the side and pull him toward her.

Gold was gone ...he had to have her ...now. He pulled her hand away, turned her around, hastily pushed off his remaining clothes and pulled her against his body. The hands holding her waist were trembling with need as he felt their bodies come in to contact. Skin to skin, soul to soul, body to body. God he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted this. She said nothing, but pressed back against him, trying to find her own release from the madness and he was all too happy to oblige. He thrust forward, sliding against her, stroking her with his body and she cried out, reaching behind them, grabbing him and trying to pull him closer. He reached between them and positioned himself until, with a last exhale of breath, he slipped inside her. Her body was wet and tight and warm around him. She was his match in every way. The yin to his yang, light to his darkness and as he thrust himself inside her again and again he realized that the magic he had consumed that day was also caressing her, stroking her, building the fire inside her until she threw her head back and screamed. His movements quickened, his breathing became sharp, hasty intakes of air as if he could not manage to fill his lungs. He was too close to the edge; didn't want it to be over this fast, but couldn't stop it. His fingernails dug into her waist and he allowed his magic to stroke her until he could feel her start to clench around him. She raked her nails down his forearms and cried out as the orgasm hit her like a freight train. It was the physical release of something she felt she had been keeping at bay for much too long. It made no sense, but at the moment she was not inclined to question it.

He groaned, shoved inside her greedily; there was no gentleness in his actions, no kind words or softly spoken declarations. It was raw, and hungry and desperate and he couldn't begin to explain it, so he didn't try. He thrust into her as she rode out another orgasm and finally felt his own climax force its way out of his body. It was almost painful and now it was his turn to cry out as a searing pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure and relief shuddered through him. His body spasmed as he emptied himself inside her. It was bliss and yet he continued to press into her, again and again, unable to stop, bringing her to the height of passion, feeling it crest, and then taking her up again. She showed no signs that she wanted him to stop. With each climax she shuddered and trembled in his arms. Eventually his movements slowed and grew softer, gentler, until he was able to stop altogether. He closed his eyes, simply holding her there against him as he pulled himself together. He could feel her heart beating, hear her labored breathing begin to calm. She placed her hands over his, letting him know without words that everything between them was fine. That what had happened was not something she would later regret. Of course, she didn't know that what had just happened was, in fact, his fault. He had used sex to gain access to the curse and as it was Rose he was attempting to protect, that desire had jumped from him to her.

It took nearly half an hour before either of them were capable of moving, and when they did, they made a beeline for the bedroom, where the scene played out again. Dinner was forgotten in the midst of their need. The evening turned to night before they were able to emerge from one another, until they were finally able to lay curled together in a mind-blowing afterglow that should have lit up the room. She turned over and looked into his face, tracing a finger down his cheek. "Hey." It was almost comical that this was literally the first thing they had said since she had walked into his house hours before.

He smiled. "Hey."

"Do I even want to know what just happened?"

"If you are not sure ..." he said with humor, "I am doing something wrong." He felt lethargic, warm, at peace for what appeared to be the first time in a never ending span of decades.

Rose laughed. "Oh, no. You are definitely not doing anything wrong, but I feel like I should apologize for molesting you upon my arrival."

Gold reached out and stroked her face. "I believe I started it."

"No." She shook her head. "It was mutual."

He nodded and then his face grew concerned. "Did I hurt you. God Rose, I didn't mean to be so ..."

She put a finger to his lips. "Do not apologize for that. There was no pain involved at all, believe me. None. I wanted you just as much and I don't know what I'd have done if you had insisted on having dinner first. It might have gotten ugly."

At this, he felt something in his heart loosen. She was not sorry, she was not angry, she was grateful. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. He had no idea how this beautiful creature had managed to fall in love with him, but as before the curse, he accepted that it was a fact. He didn't think he would ever understand it. "So, did you want to eat?"

Rose laughed. "I have managed to work up quite the appetite. Do you have a shirt I can wear?"

He had to give that some thought. Yes, he had shirts, but watching her walk around in one of them might be the death of him. "As long as we come to the understanding that I may have to ravage you on the dining room table in the mashed potatoes."

"Do they come with gravy?" she asked, her voice serious.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Well, okay then. Where are the shirts?"

Gold shook his head and waved a hand toward the closet. "Help yourself." He lay back and watched her hungrily as she got up and went to fetch a shirt.

Her voice drifted out to him. "If you keep staring at me like that we're going to starve."

"At least I would die happy," he said. He closed his eyes briefly, thinking of the life they had shared, and the life that was to come. "I hate to bring this up, but I think we should go talk to Deputy Swan tomorrow about Gary Avonlea."

Rose emerged wearing a blue shirt that set off her eyes and he nearly groaned aloud. It was her alarmed expression that gave him pause. "Why?"

"He endangered you and ou ...your baby. Even if you don't want to press charges, I think you should tell her what he did. For my peace of mind if nothing else. He could have hurt you." And ...he added in his mind, I would have to kill him, cut him in to pieces and feed him to sharks.

"I told you I was fine," she said, shaking her head. She looked irritated. He got up and pulled on his jeans, holding his hand out to her. She took it, but did not look in any way appeased. They walked together to the dining room where he pulled out a chair. She sat down, but still said nothing. Gold sighed, gathered up the dishes to take to the microwave, and walked in to the kitchen. She followed him. "I'm sorry, Roman. If it will make you feel more comfortable we can go to the station. I don't want to press charges but I agree he needs to understand how serious what he did could have been."

Gold's relief was clear. "Thank you," he said, and started heating up their dinner ...early morning snack. He sighed. Tomorrow ...tomorrow she would remember everything.


	53. Living For The Moment

Gold woke slowly the next morning. It took him a few moments to figure out why there was hair in his face, sun streaming in the windows and where all the warmth was coming from. A slow, contented smile spread across his face. Belle. She was here. Still in his bed, curled against his side, one arm flung across his chest. Her hair was tousled and as she had fallen asleep with her lips against his neck, most of it was covering his eyes. And he didn't mind in the least, in fact if he could stay like his forever, he probably would. He could feel his body complaining from sore muscles, several fairly deep scratches on his forearms and back, and the burn of what was very likely a hickey far enough down his chest that once he put a shirt on no one else would see it. He grinned like a moron, feeling strangely proud and gently brushed Belle's hair out of his face; tucking it behind her ear. He looked down at the woman sleeping in his arms and felt love fill his soul. It had been so long. Too long. He realized he'd been empty since he had arrived in Storybrooke. Now that he thought back, the reason he had returned day after day to see Belle, talk to her, be around her, was because that had been the only time he had felt alive, whole, complete. While he had not, at the time, known why, he realized it was because even as Rumplestiltskin, he had never shared that kind of love with anyone until she came into his life. Not once. Not in three hundred years.

He felt her breath on his skin first and little pinpricks of pleasure fanned out over his body. Her lips followed shortly after, trailing fire from his neck, over his chin to his mouth which she thoroughly kissed before allowing him to do anything else. Gold fell into her, gave up on trivial things like work and ...thinking ...and just let himself feel. It was heaven. Had always been for them and when she straddled him, he could only wrap his arms around her and stare up into those stunning eyes. There was nothing else in that moment but his Belle. There had never been anything in his world that brought him as much peace.

Several hours later they found themselves still in bed. Gold laughed and the rumbling in his chest caused Belle to stir. "What?"

He leaned forward and kissed her. "Nothing. Work is overrated."

It took her eyes a moment to focus, and then she looked horrified. "Oh ...Roman, I'm sorry. You have to open your sho ..."

He cut her off with a gentle kiss. "Shh. We were going to talk to Deputy Swan today anyway. The shop was probably going to be closed no matter what." He lay still for a moment and then sighed in frustration. "We really should get that out of the way. Come back here after? Actually eat something?"

He could tell she was about to protest until her stomach growled loudly. She giggled. "Well, lunch might be a good idea."

Rum threw back the covers. He started to sit up but couldn't help turning back to kiss her once more. "We'll get lunch to go."

Belle laughed. "Don't you think it might be wise to eat in a restaurant given our ...inability to avoid distraction?"

He gave that several moments of serious consideration but finally conceded. "You have a point. Let's take a shower and get this over with. I know he's in jail, but if I have to look at him for long I'm likely to kill him." He said it so seriously that her eyes widened. He sounded as if he actually meant it. And while she found herself a little surprised, the idea of him being capable of killing someone seemed ...normal, as if she had known for a very long time and come to terms with it years ago. "What is it?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Belle stood and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the bathroom. "You're very protective," she said, smiling. "I like that about you."

"That is very likely a good thing," he answered.

#

After he was certain his water bill was going to be upwards of 10 grand and would need to call a contractor to repair damage to the floor in the bathroom, they walked into the Sheriff's office. Gold saw Belle hesitate when she noticed Gary sitting in one of the two cells and felt rage start to bubble up inside him. He was saved from doing something stupid when he heard Avonlea being chastised ...loudly, by Deputy Swan. "I don't care who it is you think you are Mr. Avonlea. I don't care if your father is the only remaining survivor of Atlantis. I have the right to hold you, without cause, for 48 hours. And I actually have cause so you are completely fucked at this point. You do not ever put your hands on a woman and I assure you, should Mrs. Gold choose to press charges, I will find the biggest, meanest male at Maine State Penitentiary and sell you to him for two Snicker bars and a Top Ramen. Now shut-up!" She huffed in irritation and turned on her heel, ignoring the indignant noises coming from the cell. She only stopped when she saw Gold and Belle in the doorway. "Mr. Gold." She nodded first to him and then to Belle. "Mrs. Gold. Good to see you. Please come into the office." Emma pointed at a door that said 'Sheriff' and shot a look at Gary Avonlea before marching inside and settling behind the desk.

Gold and Belle followed. Gold was completely amused. While he'd no idea what she was talking about, the ramifications of being 'sold' to an inmate seemed very unpleasant. Belle, on the other hand, looked shocked.

Emma waved at the chairs in front of her, only looking up when the pair sat down. Her eyes focused on Belle. "Hi. Sorry about that, he was being an asshole. Mrs. Gold, I'm Deputy Swan." She held out her hand and Belle took it. "Please, just call me Emma. I hate the title 'deputy.' So ...pressing charges?"

Rumplestiltskin looked at Belle when he heard her gasp. She blinked several times, and shook her head as if suddenly everything was too complicated to understand. He watched her struggle with two separate memories; two separate identities, both of which seemed entirely real. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a breath, opened her mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again and finally shook her head and looked down at her hands. They were trembling.

Emma Swan looked alarmed. "Does he frighten you? I swear to God if he does I will go out there and gas him until he chokes on his own snot."

Gold smothered a laugh, but Belle's head jerked up at Emma's angry tone. "Oh. No." She tried to laugh, but Rum could see that her face had drained of color. "I have a headache. I don't want to press charges but I do wonder how long you can keep him here?"

The deputy did not look at all convinced. "Another day if you aren't going to let me charge him. Although he's impatient, immature and hostile, he was very concerned over your well being when I arrived this morning." Emma paused. "Are you sure you're okay? You're very pale." Emma stood, waving Gold back into his seat when he stood. "Let me just get her some water. I'll be right back."

When the door snapped closed, Gold grabbed Belle's hand. "Belle?"

She looked up, into his face, confused. "Rum?"

His eyes closed with relief. He had not realized how stressed he had been until now. "Yes. Are you okay? Sweetheart?"

"Oh ...no. Not even a little bit. What the hell is going on?"

Rumplestiltskin stood and offered her a hand. "Let's get some lunch ...er ...dinner and I'll explain everything to you."

She glanced up at the door where Emma Swan was filling a cup with water. Her eyes wandered over to a forlorn Gary ...no, not Gary, Gaston ...his name was Gaston. "That bastard ...he should be tarred and ..." She stopped, her hand running protectively over her stomach and then reached for her husband. He pulled her into his arms. Her own went around his waist, pulling him close to her, breathing in the scent that had always been so familiar. Feeling the solid muscle she knew lay beneath his suit. Touching his soft hair that no longer curled. Gods, she loved him. For her ...it had always been him. Belle or Rose, both of them loved this man with their entire being and while she still didn't understand what had happened, she trusted him absolutely and without condition. Her eyes rose to take in his face. She felt like she hadn't seen him in years. Hadn't touched him ...hadn't felt his body pressed to hers, hadn't kissed him even though they had done all of those things the night before.

Belle released him reluctantly when the door opened and Deputy Swan cleared her throat. "Here you go." She handed the water to Belle. "You look better."

"Yeah." She smiled at the officer. "I don't know what happened."

Emma nodded. "Post traumatic stress I would imagine. Glad you have Mr. Gold to be with you."

"Yes," Belle said, smiling up at Rum. "I am too."

"Okay, so ...Gary Avonlea will be released sometime tomorrow morning. You know, once all the paperwork has been properly filled out."

Belle laughed and this time it was genuine. "I would imagine the paperwork is a nightmare."

"Of monumental proportions. It could take ...hours."

"How very ...unfortunate for Mr. Avonlea," Belle said.

Emma smiled. "Very. Unfortunate. Whatever shall I do?"

All of them laughed and the deputy opened the door of the office, walking with them to the door. "Not too late to change your mind, Mrs. Gold."

Belle smirked. "I'll let you know if I do."

Emma nodded and they walked out into the twilight. Belle sighed, sagging against her husband's side. "I'm glad that's over." She looked up at him, her eyes shining with mischief. "So ...Mr. and Mrs. Gold are we?"

He shrugged, putting an arm around her shoulders. "We could go with Stiltskin."

She wrinkled her nose. "I prefer Gold. And how long have we been married, Mr. Gold?"

Rum came to a stop and looked down at her. While she had been joking, his eyes became deathly serious. She watched him take a breath and struggle with his next words. It was making her extremely nervous. Finally, he spoke,"It's been 28 years, sweetheart."

"What?" She looked somewhere between stunned and outright furious. "That would make my daughter older than I am Rum, and she's not born yet!"

He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on top of her head. As they always had, their bodies seemed perfectly suited for one another. "I know. I'm sorry. The curse. Regina's curse ...do you remember?"

"No, but I feel sure you're going to explain."

He pulled back so he could look into her eyes. "You remember my son?"

Belle nodded. "Baelfire. Yes, of course I do." She reached up to stroke his cheek. "I remember everything."

"A long time ago ...before I met you I found a way to follow him. It required a curse ...a very powerful curse."

Her eyes grew slightly darker. "And I assume you created that curse?"

He nodded. "Yes. I didn't cast it, but yes, I created it. I didn't believe it remotely possible that someone could love me, Belle. My own son had run from me and I let him go. I gave him up by choice. A bad one, to be sure, but still ...by my own choice. I manipulated so many people to turn Regina into what she is today that I've lost count of all of them. But I did what I had to do. I kept select pieces of the curse to myself so that she could not cast it until I was ready but ...and I honestly have no idea how, she figured out how to make it work. I was going to make sure we both remembered. I was going to plan our lives here to the smallest detail. I was going to make sure the magic didn't hurt our daughter. Oh gods, Belle ...I'm so sorry. I had planned to do many things and yet a large portion of them went unfinished."

Belle's voice was soft, deeper than normal. She was angry. "You had no idea if this was going to hurt the baby?"

Rumplestiltskin wanted to say something ...anything to ease her mind. He wanted to remind her that their daughter was fine. He wanted to tell her that they could study the books of blood without fear now. He wanted to say he was sorry, but he had never lied to her before ...he wasn't going to start now. He did pause to wonder, had he known about their child sooner, if he would have prevented the curse from happening? He didn't have an answer for that. At this moment, he would like to think he would have. Knowing that somewhere in the realms his son still lived would have been enough, but there was an edge of uncertainty. He couldn't honestly say he would have stopped it. He couldn't honestly say he'd give up one child for the other. He could say that he would have tried to find out if the magic was dangerous ...in fact, he had planned to do that anyway, but to give up Bae? Could he do that? Would he do that? "I didn't have enough time to find out." It was the only honest thing he could find.

Belle nodded. "And that feels like a good answer to you? Not enough time?"

"It's the only answer I have."

She searched his face. "Would you have stopped it from bringing us here, Rum?"

He looked haunted, as if his soul was splitting in two. "If it had been a threat to the baby? Of course I would have."

"But you couldn't know ...not really, not for sure." It wasn't a question. "That it was cast too early saved your ass didn't it?"

Rumplestiltskin tried to meet her eyes and found that he couldn't. She was right. Unless he had tested extremely dark magic on the child, he could never have said for sure. Given that she had still become pregnant after handling the books of blood was a good indicator that she was safe, but not one hundred percent certain. He knew that she would have insisted on absolute certainty had she known and that was something he could not have given her ...ever.

Belle swallowed trying to keep the tears welling up inside her from spilling over. "I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow." She turned and walked away.

He stood there in stunned shock until she had disappeared into the darkness. Good gods ...what had he done?


	54. Forgiveness

Sometime around 2am, Rumplestiltskin heard a knock on the front door. He was disheveled, not from sleep but more from pacing around his house for nearly eight hours. His suit jacket was on the living room floor, discarded without care; his shirt which had been clean and pressed was now wrinkled beyond all recognition. Cufflinks and arm bands had been removed. He was fairly sure they were somewhere in the room, but he had no idea where. His hair was sticking up in several different directions as he'd been running his hands through it over and over. He didn't know what else to do. Going after his wife seemed a good idea, but then again, she had to have some time to wrap her mind around what was happening. Rose French was still inside her, just as Roman Gold was a part of him and they had to keep that from the rest of the town. There were so many things he needed to explain ...he sighed, it wasn't that he'd purposely kept her from knowing about the curse, he'd had every intention of telling her all these things before it became necessary to know them.

He opened the door, expecting Germain, and found an equally unkempt Belle on the doorstep. She looked up at him and he simply opened his arms. She plowed in to him a moment later and he slammed the door shut. He could hear her muffled voice coming from his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Shh. It's a lot to take in. Believe me, I understand. I've had years to prepare for it and it still took me by surprise. I meant for you to be informed, for us to always be together, please know that."

He felt her nodding. "I do know." She pulled back to look at him and his heart broke to see the tears streaming down her face. "I know you did, Rum. I don't doubt you for a moment. I never have, I never will."

Rumplestiltskin gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Please don't cry, my Belle. We're together. Everything is fine now. The baby is healthy, we're healthy ...there is so much I have to explain to you." He took her hand and pulled her to the sofa. "Sit and I'll make tea."

Belle sat and watched him as he walked toward the kitchen. Her eyes wandered around his neat, yet cluttered, living area. She marveled that she had spent an entire night here and never actually seen this room. She giggled, her spirits lifted by the ease with which he forgave her for being silly and irrationally pregnant, although she knew he would never say anything about hormones. It had seemed a perfectly good reason to be angry when she'd walked away, but then she'd arrived at her small loft and found she was berating herself. It wasn't that he'd created a curse capable of destroying an entire realm that had made her angry in the first place. She knew that the Queen was ultimately the responsible party. No matter what Rum had done to manipulate her, she clearly hadn't needed much of a push. Belle had been in shock because the curse had put their daughter in jeopardy. Of course, given enough time, she had realized that her husband would not have put the baby in danger. He would have held off on the curse until he was, if not a hundred percent, at least as certain as he could be under the circumstances that the child would not be harmed. The wheels had been in motion ...probably before she had been born. After managing to work all of that out, she'd felt like an idiot. She still did, even though he was being extremely gentle about it. She sighed and shook her head. She had promised him once that she would never doubt him, that her trust was unconditional and at the first real test, she had folded like a house of cards. She had been embarrassed and ashamed, but she had never been one to hide. There was never any doubt that she would return to her husband. They were bound ...more deeply than by marriage or blood. They had bound their very souls together.

Rumplestiltskin returned with a tea tray laden with both food and drink. "Here," he said, setting it on the coffee table. "I haven't really eaten today. Are you hungry?"

Belle nodded. "Thank you." It felt stiff ...formal and she couldn't stand that he was walking on eggshells, afraid he might upset her again. She reached out and grasped his hand, pulling him to the sofa until he was seated and she could wrap herself around him. "I'm so sorry, Rum. I know you would never hurt our daughter. I know it." Her voice was insistent. "I was scared, but I'm fine now. I guess I just needed to wrap my brain around what had happened and yet that's not a good reason either. I would have been far happier dealing with all of this here with you."

He tucked her in to his side and stroked her hair until the rambling stopped and she fell silent. He tilted her chin up and pressed a soft kiss against her temple. "I really do understand, Belle. Really. There are just so many things I need to tell you."

She nuzzled against his neck. "I'm listening." She nibbled his ear lobe, kissed her way across his cheek and pressed their lips together. She heard him gasp, felt his arms tighten around her and deepened the kiss, using her tongue to tease his bottom lip, then the top, and then plundering his mouth until he moaned. He lifted his head and started to say something, but she was there, her mouth caressing his. Her body thrumming with eager anticipation. "I want you."

Those three words, coupled with the events of the day and her insistent kisses caused him to lose his train of thought. He pushed her shirt up and stroked her breasts, feeling her squirm, hearing her small sounds of pleasure. He grasped her around the waist and pulled her into his lap, taking a nipple in his mouth, teasing, nibbling, sucking and then blowing gently. She gasped, clutching onto his shoulders for balance until she realized his iron grip would not allow for her to fall. Secure in his arms, she ignored his shirt entirely and went straight for the button on his pants. He didn't even make a futile attempt to stop her as she freed him and wrapped her hand around his hard length. He pulled her closer, pressing himself against her hand, imploring her to do whatever she wanted.

Belle felt wicked and brazen with all her clothes ...mostly ...still on and ran her fingers over him. Trailing them along him, stroking across his balls and back up, touching the quivering head. It never ceased to amaze her that he wanted her so desperately. He was always hard, always ready, always wanting and she wouldn't have him any other way. She heard the sound of a zipper and glanced down to see him pushing her jeans open, running his fingers along the inside of her panties and across her core. As he pressed against her hand, so she pressed wantonly against his. He slipped a finger inside her and she felt her body rocking against him. She stroked him again, letting him slide through the fingers that encircled him. He pushed another finger inside her and she heard herself cry out. She was so close, but gods, she wanted him to come with her. "Don't make me come without you Rum." Her hand moved faster and he groaned into her hair, leaning forward, doing as she asked. Belle felt her climax screaming toward the surface and opened her eyes to find him watching her. He gasped first, shuddering in her hand, and the sensation of him relinquishing all semblance of control to her brought her to the edge. He thrust against her again and she came ...hard, still pumping his member as he came in her hands. She cried out, pushing herself down on his fingers as deeply as she could.

"Belle." His voice was rough and raspy as he rode out her orgasm with her. "Take them off, love." He pushed at her jeans. He was not yet fully hard again, and he still needed to be inside of her. Now. "Please." He whispered it and felt her squirming against him, kicking off her shoes and then releasing him and standing briefly to push them hastily off her body. He pulled her back to him immediately, not even allowing for her to remove her under garments. He made a noise somewhere between pain and pleasure, pushing the underwear aside and thrusting inside her. Using the leverage of his body to push in until he simply couldn't get any closer.

Belle cried out again. This. This was what she needed. She lifted up and then pushed down on him again, her patience expended, her body wet, ready, wanting. He started pulling her down as he thrust up and the sensation was so amazing that Belle almost blacked out. "Gods Rum, please. Faster. Gods."

She heard him growl and felt herself being lifted. He never removed himself from her body, only turned them around, lay her back on the couch, and with one foot on the ground, and a knee on the couch, the rammed himself into her. Fast, furious, almost painful. She heard him say her name, felt his thrusting become erratic, knew he was close to the edge again and tried to lift her hips to meet him. Wanted to see the pleasure on his face. Her own climax roared through her half a second later. She had been so intent on his pleasure, the sensation of him burying himself inside her, the she hadn't realized how close she was. She felt her body tighten around him as her orgasm sent spasms through her body and he thrust once more into her tight, wet center before she felt him spilling inside her. "Fuck!" He pushed into her again as she rode out another orgasm and her body milked him dry. Her last feeling before she lost her hold on consciousness was deep contentment. This is where she belonged, where she should always be. Whatever happened, they would work it out together.

She had no idea how much time had passed, although, given that he still lay fully clothed on top of her breathing heavily, it couldn't have been long. He was heavy, but not uncomfortably so. It was very much like having her favorite blanket draped over her. She could feel him trying to move, and equally knew he wasn't going to be able to any more than she could. She managed a weary, "You're fine, stop moving," before she relaxed fully back into the couch. It was at least five minutes before he was able to lift his head, but he was smiling, his eyes sparkling. "I love you."

Belle sighed with happiness. "I love you too."

He pushed himself backward and collapsed on the opposite end of the couch. His voice was tinged with laughter. "There really are things I need to tell you."

"I'm still listening," she said, grinning at him.

Rumplestiltskin finally managed to sit up. "Do you know," he said, pouring them both a cup of tea that was probably cold by now and handing her a plate of sweet rolls, "that we have yet to manage to eat anything together." Belle took one of the pastries and ate it much more quickly than she'd planned. Apparently she was hungry. He simply smiled and gave her a second. "It will not do for my wife to starve."

She laughed. "I somehow doubt you would ever let that happen."

He sipped his tea and smirked at her. "Be that as it may ..."

Belle stared at the cup in his hands. Was that ...the cup, the one she had broken? Where on earth had he found it? It was the sweetest thing she'd ever seen. "Do you realize that you're drinking out of my chipped cup?"

He held it out, away from him and stared. "I hadn't, actually. I've had this tea set here in the house for years." He paused, holding her eyes with his. "Right after I met you I had this overwhelming fear that it would be broken so I brought it here from the shop."

Belle counted back in her mind. "That was ..."

"Over 20 years ago, now," he finished. "I know. Amazing. No matter what the curse did to our minds, you were always in my heart, Belle. Always a part of my soul. I remember needing to see you everyday. Feeling ...horrible, empty if I didn't. I never really understood it."

"I know exactly what you mean," she said, smiling. "So what happens now?" She was delighted that they were together, but questions still lingered.

He stood and held out his hand. "We clean up, and then I make you something more substantial to eat."

"That's not what I meant," she said.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "I know. Come on." He pulled her to her feet and followed behind her to the bathroom. "Bath?"

Belle opened the door to find an enormous copper tub sitting in the middle of the room. She gasped. "Oh, Rum. Yes. Please. When did you get this?"

He turned on the taps, which caused him a moment of intense irritation, and then looked up at her. "I had it installed this afternoon."

She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Gods, I love you so much."

Ignoring the pain in his foot, he lifted her into his arms and placed her in the tub. "I will never hear that too many times, my Belle. I love you, too. Always." He climbed in behind her and this time, she caught his grimace.

"It's different when you don't have magic maintaining the water."

"It's quite ...unsettling, to be honest," he said, trying not to show how true that statement really was. He settled in behind her and she reclined against his chest.

"It's okay to miss the magic, Rum. Just don't let it consume you."

He sighed. "I can try." It wasn't the best answer, but it was, as always, an honest one.

Belle changed the subject. "So ...what else do we need to do?" She leaned forward to turn off the taps and he felt her absence to his very soul. He was not normally so clingy ...perhaps the weight of three decades without his true love were finally beginning to catch up with him. He reached out and caught her around the waist, pulling her back against him until she was resting comfortably. "So, I'm guessing you feel the same fear that I do when we're not physically touching?" Her voice was light, but he could hear how serious she was.

"Yes."

She nodded, trying to take it in stride. It was to be expected, she guessed, after so many years of being apart, even if they didn't know. "So ...joined at the hip for while. I suppose I can live with it. Now ...tell me what's going on."

He took a breath, and then let everything spill out of him. From the child of Snow White and Prince Charming, Emma Swan and her destiny to break the curse, to the fact that Emma's choice to stay in Storybrooke had caused time to start moving again. He explained that the curse had caused them to live in a state of constant present. Something like the same day happening over and over again, but with small, minor differences. Like him finally getting up the nerve to ask her out after 28 years. She laughed at that, but did not interrupt him. He told her that she had to keep this a secret from everyone but him. If she said anything, even to Dr. Hopper who would certainly wonder at her sudden, intense desire to spend so much time with Mr. Gold, they might think her insane. He explained that they and Regina were the only ones who knew what was going on, although he suspected that the Mayor's son, Henry, had a pretty good idea too. That was, of course, to be expected since he continued to age and yet the people around him did not. He pulled her closer when he whispered that in a little over eight months they would be having a baby and could not help the pride that filled his voice. He finally told her about Germain's visit and that they would have to begin learning the books of blood ...tomorrow if possible. He felt her shudder as she remembered that her life and the life of their child still hung in the balance. He wrapped her in his arms and tried to comfort her, but he knew, until they were able to complete the spell that was apparently in book 100 of the Volumes de Sanguine, and free her from their influence entirely, she would not feel safe.

When he finally fell silent Belle sat up and turned over so she could look at him. "Then that is what we'll do. Learn the books, enact the spell, and protect our child."

He nodded and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. Only one question lingered in his mind. How would they enact the spell in a land without magic?


	55. Getting Started

A/N Sorry for the wait folks, been a really bizzare month at work. Off we go again. :)

As they dried off and got dressed, Belle found her curiosity taking over and peppered her husband with questions. What were the books of blood? Did they serve a purpose? Were they a codex, a library of volumes better left alone or more like a cypher? She honestly didn't realize what she was doing until Rumplestiltskin grabbed her and silenced her with a kiss. When he lifted his head she almost laughed at the look of relief on his face. "Am I that bad?"

He dropped a kiss on her nose. "When you are trying to puzzle something out, my Belle, you are truly amazing."

She had not expected this particular reaction. "Really?"

He grasped her hand and pulled her out of the bathroom. "And truly. With the both of us working on them, we may be done with the books in a few days."

She looked at him expectantly as they walked toward the kitchen. He finally sighed and nodded. He should have known she would never let him change the subject. His answers, when they did come, were hesitant. As if he was not entirely certain himself or he was afraid to tell her. Or perhaps, some of both.

"The books had been created several thousand years ago by an alchemist, Le Comte de Saint Germain, the man who was supposed to be helping them. He had apparently discovered the secret to immortality as he wrote them and realized how dangerous they could be in the wrong hands. Knowing this, he had encrypted them, creating both a library and a codex at the same time. Generally speaking, if the books were handled or used out of order, they caused ...," he paused there, glancing at Belle, unsure if he should continue. She gave him an encouraging smile and he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, trying to remember everything.

"The books caused severe addiction, something similar to drug addiction with a much more deadly outcome. Germain had helped because he knew that Belle had been tricked into using them and that given the choice she would not have touched them on her own. Of course, the codex, the key so to speak, was imbedded in the books themselves, and one was only capable of using that key if they learned each of the books in turn. Which in and of itself would be fine, had Germain not been so paranoid that he'd created a time limit for learning, and a fatal outcome if you did not."

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "I suppose I understand his desire to keep them protected." He laughed, but Belle knew he was concerned. It was a constant weight on both of them. Learn the books, save her life, save their child's life, and enact a spell to free her from their influence. It was certainly something she tried not to dwell on. If she thought about it too long she would go insane with worry. It was best to move ahead, one day at a time, and revel in the joy her husband gave her by his very presence.

They ate in relative silence, each bound inside their minds by thoughts of what was to come. The air became so thick, Belle finally snapped. "Obviously we can't avoid the subject so why don't we talk about a plan."

He looked up for the first time in over an hour. "What kind of plan?"

"Of attack, or a schedule if you prefer, how we're going to go about learning these books, and then, how we're going to approach the inevitable questions we'll raise when we stop leaving the house." She smirked at the latter.

He grinned, unable to help himself when his wife looked at him so mischievously. "I vote for just letting people think I'm a dirty old man who is keeping the sweet, young librarian captive to satisfy his personal whims."

Belle smacked his arm, laughing. "Yes, because that won't bring the police to your door."

"Oh." He made a noise of irritation. "You have a point." He thought for several minutes before finally sighing. "Can't we just tell them we're in love and to go away?"

"If you think that will work, I'm fine with it."

He gave her a smile filled with innuendo. "You can always tell them you're just using me for sex."

Belle reached across the table and patted his hand. "I am just using you for sex, sweetheart."

Rumplestiltskin made a face. "Thank you, my darling wife. That warms my heart."

Without releasing his hand, Belle stood and walked around the table to sit in his lap. "And we both know it's a lie."

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. "I love you."

"And I love you," she said, smiling. "More than you can possibly imagine."

#

The next morning was a flurry of activity. Belle had an appointment with Dr. Hopper, something she appeared to be looking forward to, although Rumplestiltskin could not begin to imagine why. He had to go to the shop and lock it up indefinitely. At that point, Belle had requested that he talk to Ruby about taking over the library for a month or so. He was not looking forward to that meeting one bit. Both Ruby and Mary Margaret, who always seemed to be attached to her hip, were gossips without compare. He knew he was going to have to offer something in the way of an explanation and he didn't really know how to do that without it sounding false, which would definitely bring Emma Swan to his house, or kinky which would send the gossips into high gear. He sighed as he headed out the door. On the bright side, but the time they both returned home, the entire town would know they had shacked up in his house together with no intention of coming out for at least a month. He smirked as he walked to his car. Maybe they would all have a stroke at the idea that old Mr. Gold was having any kind of relationship at all. Much less one that appeared to be sexual in nature. He looked up when he heard the door open and watched his wife walk toward him. A slow smile spread across his face. Given the hours upon hours upon days upon weeks they had devoted to sex, there wasn't much they hadn't done. Maybe he'd take out an ad in the paper and be done with it.

Belle watched him with growing suspicion. "What are you thinking about?"

When he couldn't manage to get the smile to fade, he shrugged. "I think I'll just put a huge ad in the paper. 'Yes, Belle is in my house doing dirty things with me. Please go about your lives.'"

She laughed as she opened the door and got in the passenger side. "I imagine that would take care of it. I don't know what we'd do about the inevitable reporters that might turn up."

"Hmm ...I could set out land mines."

Belle shook her head as he pulled out the the driveway. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm sure that would make everyone feel much better. Nothing calms the nerves like a reporter raining down on your lawn."

He laughed. It seemed impossible to him, that he was laughing and smiling. For so long he had believed he was simply not meant to be happy. Both in this world and the other. And then one day, this small slip of a girl had wormed her way into his heart and he had never been the same. Sometimes, quite literally. His stomach sank when he realized he had not yet told her about taking back the power of the Dark One. As they pulled up outside the psychiatrist's office, he realized it was not a conversation for this moment. There was no way to tell how she would react. She might realize he'd had no choice and let it go, but knowing his wife, that was not likely. She was going to want to know why and he was not sure he had a good enough explanation. What exactly did he say?

Belle opened the door, but he reached over and pulled her back across the seat, placing a sound and lingering kiss on her lips. When he finally pulled away, she was smiling. "I could get used to that."

Rumplestiltskin let his eyes roam her face. He had no idea why, but he felt something near to panic now that they were literally parting, if only for a few hours. "Be careful. Remember your name is not Belle here. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Okay?"

Belle touched his cheek. "I know how you feel, Rum. I feel it too. Almost like something else will jump out of a dark alley and try to keep us apart."

He almost sighed with relief. "Want me to wait?"

"No. Well, yes, I do, but no ...go ...do what you need to do and meet me back here ...well .." she stopped, considering her husband's face. "One hour exactly. Sixty minutes. I might have a panic attack if it's any longer."

"Sixty minutes. I'll be here." She turned away but his voice called her back. "Hey." She turned and looked in the window. "I love you."

"I love you too, Rum. Always. One hour."

"I'll be here waiting for you." His voice was tight as he tried to tamp down the emotions that were threatening to bubble over. He wanted to grab her, pull her into the car and drive home at the speed of light. He wanted to take her into the house, lock all the doors and tell anyone who happened to turn up asking about her to go the hell away. He watched her until she disappeared inside the building, stomped on the desire to go after her and drove toward the shop. He would have to hurry if he wanted to get everything done and that thought actually made him smile.

It didn't take as long as he thought it would to close the shop. He was motivated and that made the simple inventory and checking all the locks to various doors, safes and windows go by rather quickly. He was pleased to find that only thirty minutes had passed as he locked the front door, put a sign in the window stating he was on vacation, and headed to Granny's to find Ruby.

His mind did not stray far from Belle. He hoped everything with Dr. Hopper was going well. He knew, from personal experience, that dealing with two lives was not an easy thing to do and as intelligent as his wife was, that did not mean she wouldn't slip and say something that would make her seem ...he sighed ...gods, if she said the wrong thing Hopper would think her insane and have her locked up. He should have gone with her. This was a disaster waiting to happen. It took him all the way to the restaurant to calm down. Belle was by no means stupid. She would watch what she said carefully. Of course, knowing that did not make him feel much better. He would be happy when his wife was back inside the car and they were headed home.

He checked the time and hurried in to Granny's with the keys to the library. Ruby looked stunned when he walked toward her, but true to her general demeanor, she let it pass and smiled at him. He was almost taken aback. Had she ever smiled at him for any reason? He was fairly certain she hadn't. He nodded. "Hello, Ruby. Rose wanted me to ask if you would look after the library for a while?"

She looked at him with curiosity for several moments and then held out her hand. "Okay."

Rumplestiltskin had no idea what he had done to deserve this manna from heaven, but he chose not to question it. He handed her the keys, offered her a quick, "Thank you," and bolted out the door.

He was on the curb, waiting for Belle, with 10 minutes to spare. Everything was going to be okay now. They would get home, meet Germain, learn the books, and ...he had no idea ...perhaps he would have a party. No, that would be so unlike him. Belle could throw a party. But then that would mean letting people into his house ...voluntarily. He considered for a moment and decided that if it was a party she wanted, he would have a party that people would talk about for decades. He was grinning like an idiot until he realized it was five minutes after the hour and there was no sign of his wife. He felt his chest tighten, his pulse speed up, he started sweating and was about to get out of his car when Belle walked out of the building. Archie Hopper was close behind her and Rumplestiltskin sighed. Of course, the doctor was going to quiz him about his wife moving in with him. It was so unfair. He had a legitimate claim to Belle, dammit. She was his ...had been since the day they met. And he was hers. He was not in the mood to try to explain that to anyone. Besides, he had no idea, to this day, what the woman saw in him, but he had long ago given up trying to understand and simply accepted that it was.

Belle gave him an apologetic look as she got in the car.

Dr. Hopper walked around and Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, lowering the window. "Dr. Hopper. Can I help you?"

"Rose tells me you are going to spend some time together."

Rum simply didn't have the patience for this. There were things he and his wife needed to do; things far more important than whatever Hopper was thinking. "Actually, no. Let me clear it up for you. Rose is moving in with me. Today. Now, if you will excuse us, we have a lot to get done." With that, he rolled up the window and left Dr. Hopper standing in the road, mouth gaping open.

Belle waited until they were to the next block before she burst in to laughter. "Well, that was eloquent."

He tossed her a look that was somewhere between amused and annoyed. "We don't have time to explain ourselves to your doctor. Plus that, you have no need of a doctor anyway. May I take you home, Mrs. Gold?"

She grinned at him. "Mrs. Gold?"

"You don't like it?"

Belle moved across the seat and rested her head on his shoulder. "If it means I never have to be without you again, you can call me whatever you like."

He dropped a kiss on her head and drove them home. The first thing they saw when they arrived was Germain. He was waiting for them, and he did not look pleased.


	56. Le Comte de Saint Germain

Germain leaned against the door frame watching them as they got out and walked toward him. He looked pissed. Belle turned to ask Rum a question but a quick look from him told her to hold her tongue. Clearly something was bothering the alchemist. Belle would have preferred to find out immediately, but she followed her husband's lead. If he thought they needed to be reserved in this situation, she would wait.

Fortunately, Belle did not have to wait long. As soon as the three of them were behind closed doors, Germain erupted. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Belle started to react to his accusatory tone, but then realized he was looking at Rumplestiltskin. Her husband spoke without looking at the other man. "I've no idea what you're asking."

Germain was not in the humor to tolerate bullshit. He pinned Rum with a look of pure, unadulterated rage. "Don't lie to me, Rumplestiltskin. Does your wife know what you did?" He looked over to Belle. "Did he tell you?"

Belle held up a hand. "I could tell you if he's said anything if you'll tell me what the hell you're talking about." Even to her, her voice was angry; defensive. She was prepared to stand beside her husband no matter what this man thought he'd done.

"Did you want to enlighten her?" Germain's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Rum shrugged. "I would imagine he is speaking of how closely we bound ourselves together."

Rumplestiltskin watched as his wife stepped up beside him and squared her shoulders. She shot a venomous look at Germain. "We bound our souls. If he dies, I die. If I die, he dies. I know you think me a foolish child, Germain, but I am nothing of the sort."

Germain snorted. "If you die ...he will still live, darling. He is immortal, like me."

Belle shook her head. "Not anymore."

Rum jumped in and grabbed her hand. "Let it go, Germain. This is how we wanted it to be."

Belle glanced at her husband. She knew he had cut the conversation short and while she wanted to know what he was not telling her, she would not show dissension to their guest. She would stand beside him and she would not tolerate anyone looking down on him.

Rumplestiltskin smiled. "Be careful, Germain. She bites."

The alchemist sighed and walked away from them toward the living room. His entire demeanor, even the air around him said quite clearly that he was still not pleased but that he was resigned to accepting the issue. Although it was mild outside, a fire burned in the grate. Belle raised an eyebrow at her husband who shrugged. "Let's get started, shall we?" Germain called to them and they traded glances before walking in the direction of his voice.

When they were all seated, Germain brought out the original first volume. Belle couldn't help the queasy feeling in her stomach at the sight of the book. She was deeply ingrained with something near to hate for these particular volumes. She whole-heartedly wished Germain had not created them at all.

The alchemist laid the book on the coffee table and looked up at them. "Always best to start at the beginning."

They both nodded and he waved toward the fire. "This is what you do. Rumplestiltskin, you will read the first half of this volume, you will commit the spell craft you find through the pages to memory, each letter of the spell you seek, the one giving you unabridged access to these books, the spell that will free Belle from their influence, is here, one at a time. This is why there are 100 books. Do you understand?"

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Yes. I assume Belle is to read the second half?"

Germain nodded, reaching out and taking Belle's hand. "I am sorry for what has happened to you, my lady. It was not your fault ...in fact, I feel as if it was mine." He shook himself, as if settling his nerves. "You will learn the second half of the volume. As with your husband, you will find each letter of the spell within the pages. You are to memorize them. Do not write them down. Do you understand?"

Belle nodded as her husband had. "Why can I not read volume one and Rumplestiltskin read volume two, would that not be faster?"

"It would, actually," Germain said, scowling at her husband again. "Had you not bound your souls together, you might have been able to do that, but as the book recognizes your combined souls as one living person and not two persons working together, it will not allow for you to read them separately. Do not skip books. I cannot express how important it is that you not skip books. Once you have committed book one to memory, it shall be burned." He nodded at the fireplace. "Do not let that fire go out. You must keep it burning until all the books are gone. Am I being clear?"

Belle started at their instructor with concern. "We are to memorize the entire 100 volumes without aid of writing the letters down? Are you insane?"

Germain waved a hand in annoyance. "At the end of the volume, my lady, I suggest you and your husband put your heads together to spell out whatever the book has said. Rather, it should spell exactly one word. One book per day, 100 days, that is the least you can do. You can obviously do more, but make sure you check your work, when you finish, the spell must be correct." He looked from Belle to Rumplestiltskin. "I hope I am being very clear. This is a matter of life and death." He stopped for a moment to put his full attention on Belle's husband. "And you need to tell her everything."

With that, Germain handed the book to Rumplestiltskin, got up and left them. Neither of them spoke until they heard the snap of the door closing.

Rum looked down at the book. "Well, that was interesting. Guess I need to start reading. We should probably read this first one together so I can show you the difference between general wording and spells."

Belle nodded, but held his eyes. "Want to tell me what he's talking about first?"

Her husband glanced around the room. He almost looked like he was hoping to find somewhere to escape to.

"Rum?" Belle was starting to get worried. What could be so bad that he would prefer to keep it from her. They had always been honest with one another ...always, but now he seemed unable or unwilling to offer her truth. "You've never lied to me before."

That brought him out of his frantic search and he sighed, taking her hand and pulling her to the couch. "The trigger ...for our memories, well, my memories ..."

"Was Emma Swan, yes I know." Belle was beginning to get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Remember when I said I had planned to include you in the curse but had underestimated Regina's desire to cast it?"

Belle sat next to him and curled up at his side, pillowing her head on his shoulder. "Yes."

"When I came home that night, after we met Deputy Swan, I was desperate to find a way to imprint you ...or rather the memory of you into the curse. Oh, sweetheart, I tried ...I tried for the better part of that night to find a way but nothing was working. It became clear fairly quickly that I was going to have to go inside the curse itself to imbed you. I had to trick it into believing the instructions that applied to me, that I would remember upon hearing Emma's name, also applied to you. Does that make sense?" He looked frightened when he turned his head. She had seen many things on his face over the years. Pain, sorrow, misery, joy, lust, love but never fear. What in the realms had he done?

She leaned forward, closing the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can tell me anything."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his body, needing the sensation of her to get through the next part of the explanation. "I could not go inside that curse without my power, Belle. It would have consumed me."

She had started kissing her way down his neck, but at this revelation she paused. "Power? You mean the powers of the Dark One?" When she felt him nod against her hair she finally understood. No wonder he had been afraid to tell her. He had always assumed, as long as she had known him, that regardless of her feelings, she preferred him like this, human. He didn't seem to understand that as a child, as a teenager and as an adult she had fallen in love with his soul. It was never about what was on the outside. She knew that as the Dark One he had done things he would prefer to forget. She had often wondered how many regrets she would have had she lived as long as him. "So you're the Dark One again ...is that it?"

He pulled back so he could look into her face. "The power makes me immortal, and ..." he paused again, took a breath and continued. "Dangerous."

Belle looked stunned. "Rumplestiltskin!" He had dropped his eyes but they came up immediately at her sharp tone. "You are not dangerous. Sweetheart, you have never been dangerous. Not to me. When you first got this power, you told me you went crazy and I told you I understood. No one ..." she stopped when she realized he had turned away toward the fire. She reached out, not gently, and pulled him back around so she could look into his eyes. "No one, no matter what they say, would react differently given all the power in the realms. That you managed to get it under control at all, by yourself, without losing your soul completely is a miracle and something I am grateful for on a daily basis. I love you. I have always, always loved you. For more years that I can even count at this point, there has never been a time when I didn't love you."

He sighed and turned away again, but Belle was not finished. "No. Look at me." When he did, she caught his face in her hands. "I don't care if you are mossy gray with scales or like this. You can turn purple and parade about town in a tutu if that makes you happy. I'm not going to stop loving you ..." She stopped when the laughter that had so often brought her comfort rumbled in his chest. His eyes were sparkling with the effort not to smile. "Well ...okay, maybe I'll draw the line at cross dressing as a ballerina, but you get the idea."

They dissolved into a healing laughter as the mental image of Rum prancing through Storybrooke played in their vision. He shook his head. "You are an amazing woman."

Belle smiled and kissed him. "I know."

He leaned into the kiss, pressing her back into the couch, and what started as comfort quickly became something much more. Belle ran her hands up his back and plunged them into his hair, pulling him as close as possible with clothes on. Her fingers strayed to the buttons of his shirt, and he sucked in a rasping breath. It felt as if he hadn't been with her in months and while intellectually he knew that was not the case, his heart demanded that he make this woman a part of him. It was not something he had ever experienced before ...not with anyone; this overpowering need to claim her. To mark her, to make sure everyone knew that this woman was his and his alone.

Her mouth pulled away from his to trail down his neck. It wasn't until he felt a sharp sting that was so erotic he almost ripped her clothes off, that he realized she'd bitten him. Was biting him. Perhaps the need to mark territory was not his alone. When her tongue swept over the area she had marked, soothing the burning flesh, he snapped. He fumbled with the button on his trousers. He needed to be inside her. Right now. Belle gasped when she felt his fingers pushing her skirt up, pushing her underthings to one side, not bothering to remove them. She cried out when he pressed inside her, fire licking at every nerve ending she possessed. He held her hips still, unwilling to let her move, needing to fill her so completely that she never felt his absence again. All she could do was hold on to him, press her lips to his face, shoulders, chest, whatever was accessible to her in that moment.

They were both completely overwhelmed with need. His lips found her throat and she felt it when his teeth clamped down, pulling the skin into his mouth as if trying to take a piece of her. He thrust into her again, and she screamed, the climax so powerful that it left her little else to do but clutch at his shoulders as she shivered and twitched. He opened his eyes, staring into her face as he reached his own completion, shuddering and spilling inside her. He gently soothed the red skin at her neckline with his tongue. He had not realized he'd bitten down quite that hard. At the moment, it was all he could do, his body was liquid and uncooperative.

It was nearly an hour before either one of them could move. Rum finally managed to sit up, but then collapsed back against the couch cushions. Belle didn't move at all. Her eyes blinked sleepily open and closed. Languid in the aftermath of their lovemaking. He smiled and offered her a hand, pulling her up so she could lean against him. She managed one word. "Bed."

As much as he would like that, he knew there was still something they needed to do today. Originally, he had planned to do this alone, but now ...aside from the fact that his wife wouldn't stand for it, he had no intention of keeping anything from her.

He straightened, looking into her face. "There will be time for that. There will be time for everything. But first, there is something I must do."


	57. Magic

By the time they reached the outskirts of the forest, Belle was completely confused. She trusted her husband, honestly, but something in his eyes; in the set of his jaw, was making her uncomfortable. What on earth was he up to and why didn’t he just tell her? Surely he knew by now that whatever it was, they would face it together, as they always did. 

She shook her head and reached out to grasp his arm when a wave of warmth ghosted through her. It was an amazing feeling; as if the sun itself had filled her soul. It took her several more steps to realize her mind was no longer fighting to present her with false memories. That other life, that other Belle, felt suddenly distant; like an echo. She came to a grinding halt when she realized what had happened. “Rum?”

He didn’t stop or turn, and that, in and of itself, concerned her. “Rum! Dammit, stop!”

He paused, but still did not turn. Belle was going from mild concern to outright panic. What was going on? “Please talk to me. Did you feel that?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “I felt it.”

“The curse is broken isn’t it?” She asked with half wonder and half trepidation. 

“Yes, and we must hurry. I have only a limited window of time.”

Belle didn’t move, even as he started walking away from her again. “Time for what, Rum?”

He stopped again when he realized she was not behind him. “I promise you I will explain.”

That was all it took. Rumplestiltskin had never lied to her, not once since her childhood and if he said he would explain, he meant it. So why then, did she still have a desperate, sinking feeling in her stomach?

They broke through a stand of trees and Belle trailed behind as he made his way toward a well. The brick was so old it was beginning to turn to dust and the steps around it did not appear much more promising. She knew the well, of course, it was a local legend and her false memories readily supplied her with the story. It was supposed to have magical properties. Supposed to be capable of bringing back that which one had lost. Was he looking for Bae? Had he become that desperate?

Rum turned to face her as he reached the mouth of the well. He stared in to her eyes for several long, frightening moments before he crushed her to him and kissed her with a desperation she was not sure she’d ever felt before. Desire rushed through her as he used his tongue to silently seek entrance into her mouth. She opened to him and they plundered one another. Biting gently, laving away the pain, mouths and tongues fused together, seeking out places that made one another moan with pleasure. 

Her hands began roaming his chest, oblivious to the fact that they were outside in what one could consider a public place. It took every ounce of self control she possessed not to simply rip his clothes off and make love to him on the forest floor. She could feel him trembling against her and knew his need was just as acute.

“Let’s go home,” she said, her voice deep and breathy with desire.

His lips found hers again, his fingers wandering up her back and slipping into her hair. Around his consuming kisses he gasped out, “Can’t. Must finish.”

Her fingers had managed to remove his tie and worm their way inside his shirt. She heard his sharp intake of breath when they traced over his naked skin. Rumplestiltskin pulled her closer, trailing his lips down her throat, to the hollow between her breasts, lingering and working back up again to gently nibble at her bottom lip. “I love you, Belle.” She had his shirt completely open now, and lowered her head to trace her tongue around one of his nipples. He shuddered. “Gods, I love you so much.”

Belle lifted her head just long enough to look up at him. “I love you too, Rum. I have always loved you.”

When her mouth reached his abdomen and her fingers began working at the buckle of his belt, he grasped hold of them, stilling her frantic attempts to remove his pants. Instead he turned her around, pressing against her back to front and pulled her skirt up to her waist. Belle gasped, the part of her brain still capable of functioning properly knew what he was about to do, knew he was about to take her here, in the middle of the woods and she wanted to care ...wanted to find some shred of modesty, wanted to consider that someone might just be out hiking and see them, but when she heard the sound of his zipper and felt him press against the soaked lace that was the only barrier between them, need and fire consumed her. Gods she wanted him inside her. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, pushing aside the offending material with impatience and then ...then he slid himself inside her, one hand splayed across her back, urging her to lean further forward, the other between her legs, stroking and pinching. 

He thrust in deep and hard and Belle cried out, hearing her own moans of pleasure echoing back at her. Rum’s fingers dug into her waist, pulling her back against him as he pressed forward, pushing himself in to the hilt, out again, and back. The roughness of his slacks against her backside stoked the fire to an insane level until she was almost weeping with the need for release. He growled into her ear, a feral sound, like an animal and twitched his thumb across her clit. Belle came so suddenly; so hard that her mind went black for several seconds as he stroked himself in and out, letting her ride the orgasm, feeling her walls contract around him. Belle tried to reach behind her, tried to hold on to him, to urge him faster as the sensations ebbed and flowed through her body. He seemed to take the hint, pushing her roughly down until she was almost bent double and hammering into her body until his climax hit him just as violently as hers had. He jerked once, spilling inside of her, his hands still clenched around her waist and then fell still. 

They were both breathing heavily with the exertion, unable to do much more than attempt to remain standing. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against him. His voice was deep and soft. “I love you.” He said it as he pulled her skirt back down to cover her, righted is own clothing and turned her around. “You believe that, don’t you?”

It was wrong to feel so paranoid in the aftermath of such an amazing moment, but she couldn’t help it. Of course she loved him, why did he keep asking? She, never the less, nodded at him. “Yes, of course I believe you. Rum ...what is going on?”

He pulled a small bottle out of his pocket. It was filled about a quarter of the way with a sparkling purple liquid. Belle watched with fascination as he gently pulled the stopper and stepped back to the lip of the well. “This was the only thing I could never bottle,” he said, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “The most powerful magic in the world.” He paused, staring in wonder at the contents in the bottle. “I suppose I should say I couldn’t bottle it until I met you.”

“What is it?” Belle was filled with a mixture of wonder and trepidation. 

“Love,” he said simply. “True love.” He held it out over the well and said, just as he released it into the waters below. “Our true love.”

She didn’t understand. He had bottled their love? How ...why? What could possess him to do something like that? Belle’s eyes filled with suspicion. “Explain.” 

He nodded, once again not meeting her eyes. “We need magic, Belle. In order to enact the spell, there must be magic here. And the only magic capable of creating more magic ...”

“True love, okay ...”

His eyes finally came up to settle on hers. “What have I always told you about magic, sweetheart?”

Belle’s eyes widened, less at the question and more at the billowing cloud of purple smoke now streaming out of the well. She refocused on her husband. “All magic comes with a price.” The smoke snaked around their ankles as they stood there, moving up and out like a pyroclastic cloud barreling its way toward Storybrooke. “What’s happening, Rum? What is the price for this magic?”

As the smoke spread around them, she felt something flickering in her heart, she couldn’t put a finger on it, but she instinctively knew that if it went completely out, she would be losing a vital part of her soul, but as suddenly as it appeared, the feeling was gone. She shook her head several times and looked at her husband expectantly.

His eyes were sad, lost ...and she felt ...she felt ...curious. Well, of course she did, she didn’t know what was going on, or why he should feel that way. She shook her head again. There was something else she was missing, something she should know, or do, or feel but it kept slipping away. She tilted her head to one side. “Are you okay?”

Rumplestiltskin looked at his beautiful wife, reached out to press his palm to her stomach where their child grew, and nodded. “Yes, of course, sweetheart. Everything is fine.”

Belle regarded him for several moments, glanced at the well that had stopped spewing purple smoke and shrugged, shaking his hand off her abdomen. “Good. Have we taken care of everything we need to do here?”

He sighed. “Yes. Let’s go get started with the books.”

She followed behind him as he led her back toward the car. Something was off; strange, but she had no idea what it was. Everything seemed fine. They were going to start learning the Books of Blood and when that was finished, they had magic with which to cast the spell that would save her life. Things were falling into place as they should and now it was only a matter of time. She stared at the back of Rumplestiltskin’s head and wondered what she would do once the constant threat of death was gone. 

When they reached the car, he ushered her in and quickly drove away. They needed to reach the house and secure it before the entire town came to the doorstep with torches and pitchforks demanding answers. They would guess who the source of the haze had been and there was simply no time to explain at the moment. Belle turned and looked at Rumple. He glanced toward her, offering a slight smile. “I was thinking ...”

He nodded, indicating that he had heard her and she should continue.

“Once we cast the spell and I’m safe, I think I would like to travel ...you know? See more of this world than just Storybrooke?”

Rumple pulled into the driveway and stopped, turning his entire body so he could look into her face clearly. “I don’t think it wise to take a baby on a trip like that.”

Belle was clearly stunned by this realization. She was silent for a few seconds and then shrugged. “You’ll watch over her while I’m gone.”

It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t answer, but his heart sank. “You’re just going to leave her?”

She smirked. “Oh, come on, Rum, it’s not like I’ll be gone forever. It’s just for a few months.” She shook her head and got out of the car. “You are entirely to sentimental, Rumplestiltskin. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were in love.”


	58. Love Lost

"Blood of the earth, blood of the water  
Blood of the air, blood of the flame  
For knowledge, for understanding, nought to harm."

She had been understandably confused when they arrived back at the house. Rumplestiltskin did not know what stripping someone of their love entailed, but he was at least grateful that she seemed to remember him, to remember them. Unfortunately, she had lost none of her innate curiosity. She did not understand why she had chosen to marry a man she did not love. Not that she disliked him, she had corrected quickly, afraid, perhaps, that she had insulted him. He had been quick to assure her that they were happy here. That both of them had been in dire circumstances and their ...arrangement had been the best solution all around. As she was several months pregnant, it was fairly obvious they were sexually active. With one another, he had explained quickly. They had decided together that they would like a child.

She remembered he had a son, but not his name, or why he never came to visit. She did not seem to remember the Enchanted Forest at all, but she did remember that he studied magic. She had peppered him with questions until he had told her about his fascination with the paranormal in general and spell craft specifically in great detail. He had said he was a collector of rare antiques, shown her the Books of the Blood and explained that there was supposed to be a code within the books. Belle was fascinated, and he easily convinced her to help him find the words within each book. After that, she had settled into a routine and stopped asking him questions. The only downside was that while Belle was blissfully ignorant of everything they had shared, he retained each and every memory, every laugh, every kiss, every soft gasp of pleasure. Each moment of their lives together was permanently etched in his mind. He wondered how long he would be able to keep up the charade. He sighed, answering his own question. He would do it forever if that is what was necessary. He could not lose Belle.

Belle

For weeks she had been holed up with Rumplestiltskin in his house. She didn't even want to begin to imagine what the people in town were beginning to think. Granted, when they returned to the public eye and she was noticeably pregnant, that would probably answer the majority of their questions about what the lovely, young librarian and the town recluse were doing locked away together. Of course, they were married so her condition should not really be a surprise to anyone although he had explained that the people in the town found them a curiosity. She shrugged. She didn't care what a bunch of strangers thought. She was happy here, at least she assumed she was happy here. He was attentive and kind ...what more could she ask of a life partner?

She looked up from the last Book of the Blood and watched him as he concentrated, his brow furrowed. The attraction she felt for him was ever present ...and she knew he felt the same or she would not be in her current state. She had tried to brooch the subject of sex, but he had shut her down. He did not come near her, he did not kiss her, did not do ...any of the things she remembered so vividly in her mind. And while the idea of him dropping that book and whisking her away to the bedroom was appealing on a superficial level, she found it was not something she couldn't live without. They had a good marriage, a peaceful, comfortable marriage and for her, that was plenty. At least, it was when she was awake and in control of her rational mind. Her dreams were something else altogether. She had been plagued with them since the day Rum had dropped that potion into the well. Flitting images of their sweat soaked bodies entwined, their arms around one another, him whispering his love into her ear. But that was ridiculous. They were not in love. This was a marriage of convenience, he had gained a wife and she had broken free of her overbearing father and that oaf, Gaston. It worked for them and Belle was disinclined to push.

Rum looked up from his book and smiled when he caught her staring at him. It was a warm, soft, genuine smile that made his face shine and his eyes sparkle. It was an expression she only saw when he was caught off guard and it never lasted long. He quickly schooled his features, allowing the smile to linger on his lips but fade from his eyes. Belle sighed. She didn't understand. Isn't this exactly what he had wanted? For the both of them to be happy, but not be controlled by something as contrite as love? And yet something flickered in the very depths of her being. Something that while weak, refused to go out altogether. She could never quite tell what it was. Desire? Need? Want? These were normal, human feelings and that she felt, if not love, at least desire for her husband. That was only right. Something, however, told her that if she could reach that tiny flame inside her mind, it would be so much more than she realized. But how did she go about touching something that seemed so very far away?

Rumplestiltskin

He wanted to sigh in frustration, or scream, or throw the damnable books into the fire and forget them forever, but he did none of these things. Instead he poured over his own copy of the last book which had arrived the day before bearing a note. "Time is running out."

Rum glanced at Belle. Time had already run out. His heart had been ripped from his chest and ground into dust weeks ago. They needed one more word to complete the spell. Frankly, the memorizing of the words in English hadn't been much of a problem. Translating them to Latin, and then reciting them without aid ...that was where the challenge lay. He had, during their down time, been visiting Belle in her room, sitting near her by the fire, teaching her Latin pronunciation. Lately it seemed these were the only times he was happy. It reminded him of a different time, a happier time, so long ago now that he had only vague memories.

She had moved out of the main bedroom about a week after they returned from the well. She insisted that as a married couple, they should do the things married people do. He knew what she meant and yet, knowing that she would not feel it in her soul, knowing that the pleasure would be the only reason she had to be with him, he couldn't bring himself to make love to her. She had steadily been growing more distant. It wasn't that he didn't want to pick her up and drag her to his room like a neanderthal, ravishing her until she couldn't stand up anymore. He did ...often. But this was much like it had been before she had come of age ...it seemed wrong when she didn't remember them, or didn't remember their lives and what they meant to one another. He knew that he was going to have to do something before she drew away completely.

He hadn't realized how much strength he had drawn from her unconditional love until it was no longer there. He knew he'd done the right thing. Their love in exchange for the lives of Belle and the baby. It was the first time ...ever ...that he had been on the losing side of a deal, although he supposed this particular deal had no winners. Lose her love, or lose her ...the choice had been made before the question itself had fully formed in his mind. He had believed he could live with her in indifference, so long as she was there, but although they shared an easy comraderie, he wanted his Belle back. He wanted the fire, he wanted the passion, and above all, he wanted the love. The only problem ...it was too late. She was gone and now he had to come to terms with this life. A life devoid of love. He had spent centuries living like this. He should be able to go back to it without much of a problem, but now, having known what real, true love was like, he couldn't seem to get his heart to follow his mind and return to that place where pleasure was paramount and the heart was not taken into account.

He knew she planned to take an extended 'vacation' as quickly as she could after she had the baby. She was unwilling to jeopardize the child to his eternal relief, but beyond her health, she had no emotional investment. He wanted to weep, but in the end, this was entirely his fault and he would therefore live with the consequences, even if that meant her finding someone she 'loved' and walking away from him. So long as she was alive somewhere in the realms, he could be ...well, not happy, but at least at peace.

Belle stood up and walked toward him. It was a game of cat and mouse that they played every day. She would come on to him and he would push her away. She would get a look of confusion and pain on her face, and he would feel like the wretched monster he was for the rest of the evening. And yet he still looked forward to it. For a few minutes each day he could hold her close and pretend that she still loved him. Today, however, she simply sat down next to him and turned her stunning eyes on him.

Rum swallowed hard. What did she want? Why couldn't they just get this over with? He pretended to be deeply interested in the book on his lap until her fingers laced through with his. That was new ...he looked up in confusion. "Belle?"

She sighed. "Are you unhappy, Rum?"

He turned to face her and shook his head. "Of course I'm not unhappy. Why would you think that?"

"Don't you ever want to be in love?"

He had no idea how to respond to that. She had never before spoken of love. Duty, yes. Sacrifice, yes. Lust, to a lesser extent but yes. But never love. He reached out before he realized what he was doing and traced a finger down her face. "I have been in love, Belle."

He thought for a moment that he saw sympathy on her face. "I didn't know that."

He stared in to her face trying to see his Belle. The Belle he had known before the books, before the pain, before the magic, but she was not there. Belle was the type of person who thrived on love. Whether romantic, friendly, or empathetic, it was her gift. She offered it to everyone she knew; her heart always willing to let people in. Had she not been that way surely she would never have seen anything loveable in him. He offered her a watery smile. "It was a long time ago."

"Tell me?" She phrased it as a question and he raised an eyebrow. She was awfully sentimental this evening. Hormones, perhaps.

He nodded. "She was fire ...and laughter. She was patience and kindness. She was ..." He paused and then "She was a miracle."

Belle sighed. "What happened to her?"

He barked out a humorless laugh. "I lost her. To magic. As I lose everything else."

"Can you not apologize?"

He pondered this for a moment. "I suppose I could but it would change nothing." He stopped, looking into her face. "Besides, I have you. I have our child. I have Bae. I am content, Belle. It is enough."

She spoke so softly he almost didn't hear her. "I'm not sure that it is anymore."


	59. The Spell

"Blood of the earth, blood of the water  
Blood of the air, blood of the flame  
For knowledge, for understanding, nought to harm."

"Sanguis in terra, sanguinem aquae  
Sanguis aerem, ignem cruore  
Scientiam, intelligentiam, nihil nocet. "

Hoc voto meo est.

Rumplestiltskin sat in stunned silence for what seemed like an eternity. She did not just say that. His brain did not have the capacity to process her words, it simply refused to understand them at all. As such, the only thing he was capable of verbalizing was a single word. "What?"

Belle shifted uncomfortably, staring down at her hands, unable or unwilling to look into his eyes. "Rum, look, I know we got married for a lot of reasons. Good reasons. I also know that something happened at that well."

"I told you what happened. You fell ...this loss of memory won't last ..."

Belle shook her head. "No. Not just that. It was something else, something you did not plan for. I wish I could remember what it was because somewhere inside me I just know it's vitally important, but I can't. I need you to be my memory for me." She paused and her voice trembled as she added, "Please."

He watched in horror as her eyes filled with tears and they slowly began to stream down her face. He couldn't bare to see her in pain. Instinctually, he reached up to brush them away, but she turned from his hand, shaking her head. He stared at her, his fingers still hovering in midair, still reaching. "Sweetheart ..."

"I don't know what happened between us," she continued. "I mean, we used to be so much closer." She motioned at her stomach. "But now ...now you don't ...you don't ..." She paused, took a deep breath and let everything she had been holding back for weeks come pouring out. "You don't kiss me, you don't touch me, we don't have a physical relationship of any kind. We have a child together and yet ...why do you pull away from me? What happened at the well, Rum? I need to know."

Rumplestiltskin sighed. What was he supposed to say? Did he tell her the truth? I created a potion out of our true love to bring magic to Storybrooke in order to save your life? And that magic had a price? And the price was our love? Essentially, I gave up your love for your life because I would rather live without your love than without you? It sounded insane ...even to him. It sounded like something a lunatic would come up with. And yet, in all the scenarios he had imagined, everything from somehow retrieving the love they had lost to having to live without it for ...well, forever, he had not considered that she might actually leave. He had even thought she might find someone else eventually. He simply did not now how this worked. Was she unable to love, period, until the end of her days? Or was he the only person she could not love? He hoped fervently it was the latter. Belle deserved love, even if she could not find it in him. Even if she found another. And he hated it, did not want to consider it, but it had occurred to him and yet somehow, he had not fully processed the ramifications of that happening. Clearly knowing something and understanding it were entirely separate concepts. Finally, he simply shook his head. He didn't know how to explain.

Belle nodded, wiping the tears from her face. "Okay." That was all she said before she stood and grabbing her copy of the last book, left the room.

He watched her go, but did not rise to follow. He knew it was a mistake; knew with absolute certainty that she was going to her room to pack and yet he still made no move to placate her. He had never lied to Belle before the well ...not once since she was a small child and yet now he had not only lied, but betrayed her; given up and let himself be consumed by searching the books for the spell. She had no way to know that his heart started beating faster when she walked into a room, or that he spent every night so consumed by need that he almost never slept. He had believed she would prefer him to remain at a distance, or perhaps he had simply believed it because it was easier. She didn't love him ...how could he make love to her? He couldn't. It would be sex. Good sex, yes. Satisfying to the body, but it would leave his soul empty. In his own desire to spare his heart any more pain, he had pushed his wife away. It was completely selfish. He was a bastard. He supposed he could walk into her room and ravish her properly, but he sensed it was much too late for that. She was leaving him ...and he had no idea how to stop her.

****  
Belle swiped at her running nose for the 4th or 5th time in irritation. She couldn't seem to stop the tears now that they'd started. She had managed to drag a suitcase out of her closet, but that was as far as she'd gotten. Goddammit, why was this so hard? Their marriage was a sham, a deception ...perhaps when they'd gotten married it had seemed a good idea but she knew she wanted more than this. Whatever it was that prevented Rumplestiltskin from being a proper husband to her now, he didn't want to tell her about it. No, scratch that, he wouldn't tell her about it, even though she had asked him point blank, had given him an opportunity to return their relationship to what she remembered from before. And if that was his choice, if he was going to continue to be distant and refuse to talk to her, she was going to find someone she could talk to.

It shouldn't have been any more complicated than that, and yet the thought of being with anyone else made her mildly nauseous. The moment the suitcase had landed on the bed she had felt like she was being ripped apart from the inside. How had this happened? A few weeks ago she had been perfectly content with their arrangement. It almost felt like a lifetime had passed since that day. She had become frustrated with his distance, desperately wanting him to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her. She remembered those things. Remembered them clearly and she had no idea why her 'accident' would cause him to stop wanting her. What was he afraid of? Did he think she was going to break, that being intimate might hurt the baby? Or was he simply so indifferent to her that it had not occurred to him that she might actually want him? She shook her head. No. That was ridiculous. She had seen him watch her when he thought she wasn't looking. Had seen the need and desire flare in his eyes. She knew she didn't have the whole story; knew it with such absolute certainty that she was willing to walk away from him until he told her what was really going on. The thought of leaving threatened to bring on another wave of tears, but she held them back.

She stood and squared her shoulders. She was many things ...but a sobbing damsel wasn't one of them. She would get through this. She knew there was an apartment above the library and remembered vaguely that she had been offered that living space by someone. She even had the key. That being the case, she would go there and then ...she had no idea. She may not remember everything, and her husband was clearly not telling her everything, but she knew one thing with absolute clarity. She was in love with Rumplestiltskin. Deeply, hopelessly, madly in love with him. Perhaps before falling at the well, as he had told her, she had decided that living with him, being near him, even when he didn't share her depth of feeling, would be better than nothing at all, or perhaps these feelings had been building and only solidified over the last few weeks. She didn't know and honestly, did it really matter? Loving him was only driving him away. If she could take it back, if she could stop it somehow, she would, but there was no hope for it. She loved him. It was something that should be a good thing in a marriage, and yet it was tearing them apart.

She packed slowly for several days hoping all the while that he would give in to his need and come after her, but after an hour, with the suitcase filled, he had not. He intended to let her go; to watch her walk away from him. What kind of monster would do that? She was pregnant with his child, they were married ...had been married for years, and it appeared to matter not at all.

She grabbed the suitcase and walked out of her bedroom. Rumplestiltskin was still in the living room, his face buried in that damn book. She stopped at the doorway, set her case on the floor, and waited for him to look up.

After several long moments, he did. He had schooled his features and she saw nothing in his dark eyes. Did he not care at all? Belle was momentarily blinded by fury. How had she remained in this house for so long? What on earth had she been thinking? She held up the book he had given her. "This is what you wanted, right? This is all that matters? These damn books and the stupid code?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out and after a moment, he closed it again, remaining silent. Belle nodded. "I found the last word. Yesterday. I wanted ...needed you to give us a chance again but you're not going to are you?" When he didn't answer, she slammed the book down on the hallway table. "I don't understand how you can be so fucking composed right now!" She screamed at him, so angry that she wanted to throw something. She grabbed a small china cup off the tray that always sat on the table and raised her arm.

Rumplestiltskin came to life when he saw her pick up the cup, but it was too late. She hurled it at his head and he ducked on instinct, letting it smash against the far wall. He turned around and stared at the shards lying on the ground. His heart constricted, pain welling up inside him. Behind him, he heard the front door open and he knew, without having to look, that Belle was gone.

He walked slowly to the table where she had left the book and felt his own tears break free when he saw the letters she had indicated. Voto ...the final word was 'vow.'


	60. Catch 22

Rumplestiltskin sat back in his chair, watching with humor as the young woman wobbled under the weight of a tea tray. She had clearly never done work of this kind before. He added to her angst by listing off her duties. "You will clean the Dark Castle." She nodded. "Launder my clothing." She nodded again. "You will bring me fresh straw when I am spinning at the wheel."

She set the tray on the edge of the table as far away from him as she could manage and began to pour tea. This display simply added to his mirth. "I understand."

"Oh ..." she looked up, holding a scalding cup of tea in her hands. "You will skin the children I hunt for their pelts."

The cup dropped to the floor with a thud as she stared at him in fear and shock. He giggled. "That one was a quip."

She huffed out a sigh, "Right," and bent down to retrieve the small china cup. He heard an audible gasp. "Oh!" She had picked it up and now cradled it in her hands, turning it around. "I'm so sorry." She sounded truly horrified and it piqued his interest. "It's chipped." She held it up for him to inspect ...from a distance, he noted. "You can barely see it."

He was truly and honestly confused by this declaration. "It's just a cup."

Rumplestiltskin stared in horror at the shards of china littering his carpet. "It's just a cup," he said in an attempt to calm himself, but it was pointless. Like Belle, the cup was gone. He carefully knelt and picked each and every piece out of the carpet, placing them back on the tea tray. He could fix it, he knew, but very much like it had represented Belle in his heart, it now represented the state of everything he held dear. His marriage, his happiness, his very life ...all broken. Why fix it now?

Next to the tray, he saw the book of blood. He couldn't begin to express how much he hated these books, but at least he could enact the spell, protect Belle, protect the baby. If he could do nothing else, he could do that. He picked it up and walked back into the library.

After pouring through 100 books, he knew that stupid spell by heart. Belle knew it as well, but Germain had never indicated that both of them needed to be present for it to work. He grabbed his copy and tossed both into the fire, watching them burn with more pleasure than he probably should. He hoped to any god who might be listening that this worked.

"Sanguis in terra, sanguinem aquae. Sanguis aerem, ignem cruore. Scientiam, intelligentiam, nihil nocet. "

"Blood of the earth, blood of the water. Blood of the air, blood of the flame. For knowledge, for understanding, nought to harm."

He said the final line, adding the last word in the correct place within the translation. "Hoc voto meo est."

"This is my vow."

He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to burst out of him. His vow. His promise. Gaellnatas. A single tear escaped and dripped down his face. He had promised to take care of her, to watch over her, to never allow her to be hurt again and he had kept that promise. Protected her from people who would cause her harm her entire life. He had not counted on needing to protect her from himself.

#

Belle staggered slightly as a wave of nausea washed through her. She felt sick ...beyond that, she felt like she was going to fall over right there. Everything started spinning and she grasped for the doorknob to keep her balance. And then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone.

She looked around, not entirely certain where she was. Her key was still in the door. How long had she been standing there? What was going on? She shook her head to clear it and pulled her suitcase into the apartment.

She stood in the doorway for a long time. Somehow she had expected something different. This apartment should be completely devoid of anything save basic furniture but it was filled and she remembered everything inside. It was the strangest sensation walking through the small living room; remembering.

The day she saw that hand-blown glass lamp in the weeds and was amazed it hadn't broken. The day that a man named Roman Gold and not Rumplestiltskin grinned at her when she asked him if he could rewire it. The day he had come to the library to shyly return it in person. She remembered that she had smiled like an idiot for days. Her friends pestering her to tell them what had happened. There were a pair of sizzors on the kitchen counter. She smiled, remembering the day she had proclaimed that Roman's hair was too long and managed to butcher it beyond recognition. He had laughed and smiled, shaking it off like it didn't matter that he looked like a demented furby. She remembered seeing him every day at the library, and how her world would light up when he came through the door. She remembered a kisses that made her toes curl and his warm body pressed against her own.

Belle wandered into the bedroom and sat down heavily on the bed. Other memories came flooding in. Images that she did not understand, but seemed to belong to the name Rumple as opposed to Roman. She remembered their wedding, but it looked like they were in a castle. She remembered speaking with an artist to design a wedding ring of black obsidian that suited him perfectly and how pleased he had been when she insisted he wear a ring. A ring he clearly did not wear anymore. She simply couldn't wrap her mind around everything. There were flashes of the small china cup she had thrown against the wall and a tear streaked down her cheek when she remembered how much it had meant to him. Images of her father in robes and her husband in leather. It was like she had two sets of conflicting memories. One set seemed perfectly normal; the other ...ridiculous, and yet she felt instinctively that however strange they seemed, they were very real. It was beginning to give her a headache and her stomach broiled once more with impending nausea.

No matter how confusing, the one thing she remembered clearly was how much she loved him. A love so deep and so consuming that the thought of living without him was enough to take her breath away; to leave her gasping in pain. She also remembered months of feeling empty, as if someone had stripped away her heart and left her unable to feel anything. It had started just after they went to the well.

Once again, she had come full circle. That damn well. Something had happened; something he refused to share. Belle felt conflicted. Was it that he wouldn't tell her, or that he couldn't? And if he couldn't ...was he protecting her from something? It was beyond frustrating. She could protect herself, she didn't need him to do it for her. What she needed from him was the truth.

Belle sighed and lay down. She was so tired. Tired of everything. She grabbed her pillow and heard something that sounded like paper crinkling inside the case. She withdrew an envelope that clearly had her husbands handwriting on the front. She opened it and found a letter ...it was not to her.

#

My sweet child,

You don't know me yet but you will. One day when you are older, your mother will give you this letter. You don't have a first name yet, although I think your mother is partial to Lucy, but it doesn't matter. You have a last name. It is Gold. It's important that you know where we come from, and what kind of person I am. Before I get in to all that, remember that you are so loved. Every moment, every day, since I knew of your existence, I have loved you. I'm sorry if I have smothered you, I'm not sure I could stop being overprotective if I tried.

My real name is Rumplestiltskin and I am a sorcerer. In fact, more than simply that, I am the Dark One. The most powerful dark wizard in all the realms. I met your mom a very long time ago in another realm. This world, the one you live in, is not the only world that exists out there. There are infinite worlds. You may read about our world in some of your books, for some reason our land became very popular with the writers here, in this land without magic. Some of what you read is completely wrong ...in fact, some of what you will read is downright stupid, but a lot of it will be at least partially true. You can ask me anything, sweetheart. I will never lie to you, just as I never lied to your mother. She was much younger than you are now when we met and I swore to protect her when it appeared that no one else was going to. Not that your grandfather is a bad man. Okay, I don't really like him, but I will never try to keep you from knowing him. Anyway, I digress. Your grandmother (and I use that term loosely) walked away from the family when your mom was a small child and I'm not sure Moe, well, Lord Maurice, that's your grandfather's name, I don't know that he ever recovered. He loved her. I suppose I can identify. I was married once before and she left me and your brother alone.

I don't know if you know your brother. I hope you do by now, but it's possible that you have never met him. His name is Baelfire. By the time you read this I will have found him, but whether he can find it in himself to forgive me for the things I have done is still up in the air. I hope on a daily basis that one day you will know him. He deserves to know a treasure like you.

At any rate, I spent my life protecting your mother. I did it without expectation; I did it because she was little and she needed someone who would always be there. I never thought for a moment that I would fall in love, but, then, that is how love is. You don't see it coming ...it hits you like a freight train. Or perhaps just the realization that you are in love is what hits you. The love itself builds up over time. I'm not even sure it matters. All I do know is that I love her more than life itself. I would do anything at all for her. I would give her the world if she would take it, but I don't think she will. She's an enigma, your mom. How she could possibly fall in love with me is still, to this day, a question I cannot answer. I accept it as the miracle it is because I cannot imagine being without her at this point. My life would be empty and meaningless if she were not there. You probably don't want to hear all my declarations of love, but I just want you to know that you are here, you exist, because your mother looked into the heart of a monster and found something she considered special. She saw past my facade and refused to allow me to wallow in my past. She lifted me up, gave me hope, and showed me that True Love is a real and tangible thing.

I was a bad man, sweetheart. I'm not just saying that, it's true. I wallowed in the darkness and let it consume me and I did horrible things. Were it not for the shining star that was your mom, I would have never seen the light again. Had she not been so strong ...well, I wouldn't have you.

Wherever you go from here. Whatever you do. Remember that I love you. Know it in your heart. And always know that I am a better man because you are a part of this world.

I love you.

Papa

Belle set the letter aside and buried her face into one of her pillows to stifle to sound of her sobbing. She had no idea when the letter had been written, but it was clear that her husband loved her. Or at least ...he had, once ...perhaps so long ago that he had forgotten. The only question now was would he, could he ever love her like that again?


End file.
